


The Colony

by Cophinaphile



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 114,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cophinaphile/pseuds/Cophinaphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1959 AU, Cosima returns to Reno from the East Coast every summer to work on her stepmother's ranch, but it isn't cattle she wrangles. M rating is for future developments</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off the rails

Having finished her food, she placed the utensils on the edge of her plate and shifted it away from her across the small, round table. Cosima Niehaus had made a decision. She felt certain at this point that the taciturn, yet alluring, blonde was indeed going her way, and though she had struggled for days pondering about how (or if) to proceed, she flagged down the waiter and ordered coffee for two.

They had first made eye contact back in Boston, on the platform.

The steam from the out-bound locomotives made the moisture in the muggy Mid Atlantic air even thicker, more visible. A thin sheen of water clung to the walls, the benches, the baggage, and every inch of exposed flesh in the station. Shiny-faced men stood around, hats in hands, fanning themselves, ties loosened just enough to not be considered indecent for travel. The women, most of whom had pill-box hats still pinned to their meticulously coiffed hairdos, made due with makeshift fans, troubling the heavy air into personal breezes with folded train schedules and repurposed newspapers.

Perched on a glossy,wooden bench reminiscent of pew, Cosima struggled to notice anything except the intense discomfort of the overwhelming heat. In an effort to give respite to her sweltering body, she had attempted to adjust her posture and the lay of her limbs at the exact same moment as the woman on the opposite side of the bench. Their hands brushed over each other briefly before each jerked her hand back closer to her own chest.

"I'm so sorry." Cosima offered, a little too loudly, while simultaneously a hurried "Désolé" fell from the lips of the blonde woman on her periphery.

Having spent the last four years studying neuro-biology at Radcliffe, it was the Latin derivation of the word that caught her attention first, but once her eyes found those of the other woman, ancient tongues were the last kind on her mind.

In the lab, she measured the speed of electrical impulses in the brain in milliseconds, the fractional units of time during which the conscious mind could not exert control or censor the basic impulses of physiology. And it took mere milliseconds for her eyes to lock on the blonde's, quickly bounce away, find vague focus in the opposite direction and send a signal to her brain so potent that the rest of her body vibrated with a flood of warmth.

That had been three days ago, and to Cosima's great delight (or was it bemusement?) she continued to see the tall, slight woman both morning and evening in the dining car of the westbound train. They seemed to take breakfast at about the same time and much earlier than most of the other passengers. Even though they both entered from the caboose side of the car, they seemed instinctively drawn to opposite sides of the shuttle, choosing to settle into richly upholstered chairs whose backs faced the windows and consequently provided each woman a clear view to the opposite side. This meant Cosima was able to practice keeping her breath and blood at bay when she heard the French woman's coffee order slide between her lips, or when their eyes inevitably met and darted away from each other across the expanse of other staged yet empty tables.

Though Cosima guessed initially, from her obvious linguistic heritage, that the blonde would disembark in Sault Ste. Marie and continue on into Canada, she had surprisingly continued her travels around the Great Lakes and, now that they were pulling out of Chicago, it seemed certain that her destination must be on the West Coast. No Mormon woman looked quite like this.

Cosima, accustomed to this journey, had become a bit of an expert at picking out the women who were en route to The Colony. Some were too obvious; the ones who freely allowed tears to streak through their eye make-up, transferring it to the soaked handkerchiefs wrapped around fingers, dabbing the perpetual wetness away. These women were the ones whose husbands had compelled them to get on the train, whose beds and homes were already being taken over by the nannies or secretaries for whom they had been forsaken.

These were the women who either broke or blew up in The City of Broken Vows. Some of them would never recover; their sorrow would over-steep into bitterness and mask, indefinitely, the sweetness of their youth. Others would experience a gestalt; a sudden realization that they deserved better than what had been done to them. These women became bold, lively and ran head long into the recklessness of youth that they had abandoned for the fabled "safety" of marriage. In either case, these husbands got exactly what they paid for: six weeks of physical distance that invariably led to a lifetime of silence.

Other women, harder to spot, made propriety their religion. They kept routines, and dressed impeccably, and they wore masks of kind concern and earnest gratitude when interacting with waiters and porters, hanging on to the last vestiges of normalcy and respectability before becoming sullied by legal decree. In truth, it was often very difficult to tell them from women bound for San Francisco or Los Angeles, except that they all played the same torturous game with themselves.

Cosima would watch them, sitting alone, in between courses or right at the end of their meals. They would worry at the rings on their left hands, eventually slipping them off and setting them on the linen-covered table top, entertaining, for only a millisecond, the life in front of them before snatching the rings back up and sliding them on, anchored again to what lay behind. At least for a few more weeks.

There were, of course, other types of future divorcees on board, but they were starlets, or the very wealthy, sequestered in private luxury cars. These were the women who embraced their "Reno-vation" from the get-go; who longed already to be ensconced at the famous dude ranches, like the Flying ME, and have torrid affairs with willing cowboys while they patiently waited for their freedom.

Cosima, over the years, had learned it was best not to start chatting with the women who would take up temporary residence in her hometown; they tended toward the melodramatic or the ironic and in either case, Cosima had grown bored with each disposition in its turn. The blonde, however, didn't fit either type of run of the mill divorcee, and though her attire implied wealth enough, she had chosen to travel coach class, which on such a long journey would have been unusual for a woman of any significant means. All of this, plus the absence of a ring on her left hand, had led Cosima to believe that Reno wasn't her final destination.

On this fourth day of their mutual travel, Cosima had managed to get control of her more primitive impulses enough that she thought she might strike up a conversation with the woman and not succumb to idiocy. No reason she shouldn't delight her own senses and sensibilities while traveling across the expanse of the Great Plains. Dressed in burgundy slacks and a black silk shirt, she asked the waiter to deliver a small pot of coffee and an extra cup to the table occupied by the ivory-skinned beauty reading Life magazine by lamplight, who sat draped in a white blouse and black slacks, hair pinned into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

Before she made her way across the car, Cosima took a moment to notice how the warm light danced in her eyes and accentuated the jut of collarbone visible at the top of the white blouse, whose first two buttons lay open; the view was partially obscured by the woman's right hand as it lazily swayed the charm on her necklace from side to side. If Cosima made her peace with it now, she might not make it awkward by staring at the woman's chest when she sat down.

She sauntered over to the blonde's table. Swaying her hips in benign but delicious flirtation that only she perceived, she was certain. "Would you mind of I joined you?"

Cosima's words confused the blonde at first. She looked around for some other recipient of the brunette's inquiry before replying, a thickly accented, "I'm sorry; are you talking to me?"

"I am. Yes." Cosima clarified. "Oui, je me permets?" she added, pulling out one of the only French pleasantries she could recall.

The seated woman's eyes smiled at the familiar words. "Est-ce j'ai l'air de me sentir seule?" the blonde inquired innocently, holding eye contact with a suddenly flustered Cosima, who some how failed to reckon that speaking French might give the impression that she could actually hold a conversation in the language.

Her mouth fell agape and after several false starts, she finally chuckled at herself and shook her head defeated, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I have sort of exhausted all of the French I know; except for hello and goodbye…. I guess I skipped hello, didn't I? ummmm, bonjour. " She noticed the woman's face break into a barely perceptible smirk as she gave a slight chuckle. "So, I'm guessing you either speak English or are terribly amused by people who can completely change color on cue." Her fingers twisted small tornadoes each around the others as she tried to save face.

"I do speak Engish, oui, and I asked you if I looked lonely." This caught Cosima off guard; she hadn't meant her request to insult the woman and it horrified her to think that maybe she had, but then the blonde's subtle smirk grew even wider and Cosima felt more at ease.

"You? Lonely? No way. That was all me. I'm the lonely one…." Cosima settled one arm onto the back of the blonde's chair and leaned into it. "But, you did look alone and have for several days, and since you are alone and I am alone, and maybe a little lonely, I thought we might be alone together, y'know, in the same space." She gestured, pointing between the two of them and then to the mostly empty table. "I asked the waiter to bring some coffee over, so you kind of have to say yes."

"Oui, je comprends." The blonde's smile continued to stretch across her face. Then she leaned forward toward Cosima, a somber countenance falling over her features and a whisper cascading from her lips, "But there are many other passengers here who are alone, non? Would they not like to be alone with us too? Vraiment, some of them I have noticed look very, very lonely." And even though she was describing the compliment of people lingering in the dining car over coffee, her eyes never left Cosima's, who lowered herself into the chair opposite her new companion as she spoke.

"Very true." She added, her body language mirroring the blonde's. "They do look lonely, but I make it my habit to avoid the 'dudes' heading West. They are much more fun traveling back East at the end of the summer, after it's all said and done… you know." Cosima intimated, but the blonde had not followed her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…. 'dude'?" a crease formed between the blonde's eyes, and Cosima thought about continuing to speak in slang and vaguery just to keep it adorably in place, but instead made to clarify.

"Oh sorry, yeah, see I'm from Reno, yeee-haw, and every summer I ride back home from Boston to work on my stepmother's guest ranch. 'Dudes' is slang . It's what we locals call the folks who move into town for the summer while they are establishing residency, so they can…" She mimed removing a ring from her left ring finger and tossing it away.

"Oh yes, I see." The blonde nodded. "It is hard, I imagine. Perhaps, they don't have much to feel good about right now."

"Yeah, it's pretty heavy for sure, and I totally understand that it's helpful to talk about this stuff when you are going through it, but after seven summers, my empathy well is sort of tapped dry. The stories are all so sad, and they all end the same way." Cosima had leaned even farther forward, not wanting to be heard by the entire dining car. "That's why I came over here to visit with you. I noticed you back in Boston, and since I am sort of an expert, I guessed you weren't heading for Splitsville. I also noticed you were reading LIFE. The photo essays are my favorite. I'm Cosima, by the way."

Unconsciously, the blonde had mirrored her body language, so that they were both now completely leaning over their crossed arms toward the center of the table. She looked like she was going to say something, having inhaled deeply and letting her mouth hang open as her brow twisted slightly. But then her mouth closed and her countenance relaxed. She exhaled smoothly and offered, almost as a whisper, "Delphine." "Enchantée." She added with a slight nod.

"Enchantée," Cosima responded.

"So, if we are not going to share ourselves with the 'dudes,' Cosima, what should we talk about?" It took her a moment to answer. She was distracted, savoring the sound of her name on the woman's lips, and brought back to reality when the waiter placed the coffee pot, cups and creamer at the edge of the table and she heard Delphine speak again, "Merci."

"Well, ummmmm, what took you to Boston? I thought you were on your way up to Canada." Cosima hoped she wasn't prying.

"I do not live in Boston anymore, though my lawyer still does. I had business with him before heading West. I have been in Amherst for the last four years at University."

"Beauty and brains, huh? Very impressive. What are you studying? I'm at Radcliffe, neuro-biology." Cosima added at the end.

"That, too, is very impressive. I am studying genetics." A smile erupted across Cosima's face. "There are fascinating developments on the horizon." Delphine offered. "You've heard of Watson and Crick, non? They have given us a physical model of the very stuff that makes us possible, DNA. It is very exciting." Delphine had suddenly become very animated. She had begun to speak with her hands, fingers splayed out and wrapping in lazy circles at the wrist. Cosima wanted to reach out and grab one! Instead, she laced her own fingers together and tapped her thumbs together too quickly.

"Yeah, absolutely, I've heard of them; their work is helping us understand the structure of the human brain. It's heavy man, and totally complex." Delphine smiled broadly.

"Yes, it is, complex" She stretched last syllable playfully, appreciating Cosima's choice of word. "Since we are talking about complex things, may I ask you a question, Cosima?"

"Feel free." Dephine's eyes closed slightly as her head cocked sideways, she was clearly confused and Cosima realized she would need to limit her use of colloquial expressions, "Yes, please do. Ask anything you want."

"Ok, merci. Since you are….like me…a woman in the sciences, how do you find it?"

"Oh, umm… well I guess I must find it engaging and stimulating otherwise I wouldn't study it." She grinned at the blonde, impressed with her own wit.

"That is not what I meant; I'm sorry English is not always my…" Delphine made to explain, but Cosima interrupted her.

"No, don't apologize, your English was in the groove, that means right on by the way, and I think I knew what you were asking; I was just being...

"Cheeky"

"Yeah, cheeky… On purpose. Sorry" Cosima noticed that their hands lay close enough together on the table that she could reach a finger out and stroke the back of Delphine's hand. Her eyes lingered a little too long and Delphine wondered aloud.

"So, what did you think I was asking?"

"Right, I guessed that you were asking how it feels having to compete with men all the time?"

"Oui,mais, perhaps not competing but having to prove yourself to your peers. That you are more than their secretary or assistant. I am the only woman in my program, so I do not have a confidant, per se. I am curious what your experiences have been."

"Well, your thoughts are safe with me for sure, but I'm not sure how much I can commiserate yet… I sort of cheat." Cosima's favorite crease made its appearance in the center of her companion's brow… "Radcliffe is a women's college still. Pesky private school rules and all. Harvard just isn't ready for estrogen yet."

"I see" Delphine pondered the implications of gender segregation for a moment, before continuing. "Well that must be refreshing."

"I suppose it must be, but it is my normal so I'm kind of used to it. You should come visit sometime; we are practically neighbors. That way you could feel it out for yourself. I could be your own private tour guide."

"Merci, I'm certain it would be different."

"It would have to be I guess."

"C'est vrai." A silence fell over them, but not necessarily an awkward one. Delphine, who was looking into Cosima's eyes, tucked her lip under her teeth, a nervous habit Cosima had observed several times over the last few days. Cosima was about to make a move toward the coffee pot just to break the silence, when Delphine broke their mutual gaze and released her lip from its prison to speak. "So you work on a ranch for the summer. That must be interesting; do you work with the animals? Wrangle cattle… I think they say, non?" Delphine inquired.

"Yes, that is what they say… but it's not exactly what I do." Cosima hesitated briefly, wondering if she should have just run with the assumption and let it lie. Offerred one of the thousands of anecdotes about Shioban's cowhand's she held in reserve for dinner conversation and to alleviate ennui and claimed it as her own personal narrative. Rather she offered the truth, "Actually, I do wrangle, just not cattle. I am what they call a dude wrangler."

"But didn't you say…" Delphine puzzled.

"I did, I did say that. I help the folks who live at the ranch stay busy and manage their affairs while they are in town. It really can be confusing and scary, so we try to help in any way we can. So you see, I'm not really that cold-hearted. I just know I have an entire summer of hand holding ahead of me; I don't really want to start on the train."

Delphine nodded along. "I suppose that is understandable. Well, I promise, I will not require you to hold my hand while we converse." She grinned at the brunette simply. Cosima's stomach flipped over; the blood retreating from her face in disappointment.

"Right," Cosima droned, nodding. "Great, good, obviously. So, Delphine, what brings you out West? What is your final destination?"

"Oh, no….I would not wish to burden you. I understand your empathy well is tapped dry, non?" Delphine said slyly, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

"Hey, only for the sad sacks heading to the Bridge of Sighs; for you, I am all ears! Where are you heading?" Cosima goaded.

"I love the way you talk, mon dieu. What is this Bridge of Sighs?" She released a breathy chuckle and quirked her head sideways.

"Right down the street from the Reno courthouse, one block south is a bridge over the Truckee River. It's called the Bridge of Sighs because it is the spot where the forsaken women of the west stop to remove their wedding rings and fling them into the river! It can be terribly sad, liberating, empowering, romantic, therapeutic… it all depends on the timing and the individual. My step-brother jokes about wading into the river at midnight and panning for broken dreams to go pawn; he'd probably never have to work again!"

"Really? The women do this? As a symbol or gesture?" Delphine marveled, a slight melancholy infecting her previously playful tone.

"Yeah, I've been with quite a few of them when they do it."

"More hand holding, non?" she offered dryly.

"Yeah I guess so, but not in a bad way.

Delphine sat up straight, suddenly increasing the distance between them for the first time since they began talking. She stared down at the table, hands nervously picking at the edge of the table cloth, then reaching back to the center to gently squeeze the hand of her companion. "I'm disembarking in Reno in two days, Cosima. I'll be staying at the Riverside for the next six weeks; perhaps we will see each other… perhaps even on the Bridge of Sighs."

Cosima closed her eyes, letting the full weight of her supposition and stupidity wash over her. "Shit, Delphine. I'm so sorry."

"It's OK. Good night Cosima. Thank you for the coffee" And she stood up and walked out of the dining car without once looking back into the eyes of the woman whose gaze was glued to her back, their untouched pot of coffee cooling on the table's edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: obviously, I would very much like to know what you think, so please feel free to let me know. And a big thank you to pmonkey816 for beta reading this chapter and for being a remarkable human being! And to Ladyzephyr for constant feedback about  
> conversational French!


	2. All Aboard

Cosima’s eyes fluttered open experimentally as the first hint of daylight infused the predawn portrait out her roomette window; the gentle rocking motion of the train coaxed her further into wakefulness, but kept her simultaneously content to be prone in her otherwise utilitarian fold-out bed. It took only a fraction of a moment, however, for her conscious mind to rise from the depths of somnolence and erase that feeling of easiness altogether. Instead she became a bit nauseous; the pressure of emotional weight in her solar plexus threatening to ruin her relationship to food indefinitely. 

She had hoped to spend the next two days in a harmless, one-sided flirtation; a little emotional dalliance to fuel her summer fantasies. Her past flirtations had never failed to make women giggle, blush or even play the role of sighing ingénue to her brazen cad. Although she knew it unlikely that any object of her affection would ever permit her to cross the boundary between playfulness and passion, she still sought out opportunities to walk that fine line, finding that their confused arousal inspired satisfaction in her romantic imagination.

But Delphine’s sudden exit last evening had shattered the illusion that the blonde might ever blush at her innuendos. And even though Cosima wasn’t the sort to wallow in guilt (especially not when the injuries she caused were accidental), her recollections of the insensitive things she had said mingled with memories of Delphine’s unflinchingly calm reactions and overwhelmed her with regret. She felt compelled to apologize to the blonde and resolved to do so at breakfast. 

She wrestled her twisted blankets into a tidy pile and folded the stiff bed back into its daytime “bench” position. She turned on the trickle of water in the roomette basin, splashing it into her eyes, over her face and offering her queasy stomach a small sample, before using a cloth to clean her underarms and her more delicate places. 

Feeling fresh enough, she dried off and slipped into her grey pedal pushers and white pop over top, finishing the ensemble with a comfortable steel blue, cropped sweater. She slid her glasses on, checked her look in the small fold out mirror, and decided it was best not to rely on its distorted feedback, which threatened to intensify rather than alleviate her emotional discomfort. Instead, she applied a quick sheen of lip gloss and ran a brush through her wavy brown tresses one more time, smoothing them down with her palms, before she stepped out into the corridor and turned toward the sounds of life to the right.

 

The sun was just cresting the horizon as Delphine approached the dining car, the smell of warm sugar and fresh coffee pulling her forward. Through the glass window of the sliding door, she scanned the car looking for her companion from the previous night, hoping her own awkward retreat would not have caused the other woman to alter her morning routine. She recognized Cosima immediately, seated at the same table they had shared hours earlier, a steaming cup sitting to her right, her attention on the table in front of her, specifically on pencil marks she was scratching onto the pages of a small leather-bound book. 

Steeling herself with a deep intake of oxygen, Delphine drew her lips into a tight smile and fixed her eyes on Cosima. She slid the door to the dining car open; the other woman’s attention pulled immediately by the sound of the door heaving in its track. Cosima pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, tensing in recognition as their eyes met; Delphine noticed the shift in body language and offered a slight wave, which Cosima acknowledged with a smile and wave of her own. Delphine approached the table, the low slung skirt from her shirt-waisted dress swaying gently as she walked. “May I join you?” she inquired, perhaps too friendly considering how she had last spoken to Cosima, so she added deferentially, “If you are not too busy with your work, that is.”

Cosima blinked several times, a puzzled expression painted across her features. She had expected she’d be forced to seek out Delphine’s company in order to apologize, and it knocked her of balance to be on the receiving end of this solicitation. “My work? No, no not possible. I’m just, well, doodling really. Please, sit down; would you like some coffee?” Cosima signaled the waiter to come, as Delphine took the seat across from her. 

“Yes, that would be nice.” Their eyes found each other again and Delphine added with a smile, “We seem to have wasted our opportunity last night, non?” 

“Uh, Yeah...” Cosima replied, the small hint of a curiosity tugging at her voice. She requested another coffee from the waiter before asking Delphine, “Are you hungry?” 

“I am, actually. Very.” Her eyes left Cosima’s as she ordered a soft-boiled egg and a croissant from the waiter. “S’il vous plait.” The waiter tipped his head toward Cosima.

“Can I bring you any food, Miss?” 

“Ummm,” the mild nausea that had plagued Cosima since rising seemed, almost instantly, to have dissipated in response the blonde’s affable tone since her arrival; its absence signaled by a rather loud churning in her her abdomen. “Yeah, actually, I guess I better eat something. Can you bring me an egg, poached-soft, on toast?... actually, make that two eggs, poached-soft, on toast.”

“Of course, Miss.” And he turned to walk away.

“Thank you.” Cosima called behind him.

Silence hung briefly between them, Cosima using her pencil as a place holder, carefully shut her journal. Each time their awkward gazes crossed paths, their smiles grew incrementally; it was Cosima who finally spoke. “Delphine, please let me apologize for last night.” she asked earnestly. “I don’t know how I got so turned around, but I swear I was not trying to insult you; it’s just that…”

“Cosima.” Delphine interrupted, just as the waiter returned with her coffee. She offered him a dismissive ‘merci’ and made a long slow pour of cream into her cup, swirling it slowly with her spoon. Cosima inhaled sharply and opened her mouth to continue, but Delphine stopped her mid-breath with a raised hand. “I think perhaps I should go first.” she mused.

“OK.” Cosima stilled her body, the pressure in her chest returning, limiting both her appetite and the volume of her voice.

Delphine, elbows perched on the tables edge, used both hands to bring her coffee to her lips and cautiously took a slow sip. Her line of sight landed on the wall just over Cosima’s right shoulder, and as she withdrew the cup from her lips, she caught the remnants of her first sip with her tongue. Cutting her eyes back toward the brunette, she began “You are a scientist, non?”

“Ummmmm, yes,” Cosima confirmed, unsure if the question had been rhetorical.

“And as a scientist, I assume you are familiar with Occam’s Razor, oui?” She still held the coffee cup with two hands just in front of her chest, a self-satisfied smile forming on her lips.

“Mmhmmmmm.” Cosima hummed. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Which tells us… what chérie?” Delphine challenged, taking another sip of warm liquid.

“Wait,” Cosima’s face twisted in uncertainty, you want me to explain Occam’s Razor to you?” Cosima toyed with the rim of her own coffee cup, tracing its curves with her nervous fingertips. This conversation was certainly not what she had expected. 

“Oui.” Delphine affirmed, eyebrows arched playfully in challenge.

“Why? Am I being graded?” she mused quizzically.

“For someone who was just asking for my forgiveness, you are very resistant to following my lead.” Delphine teased, finally placing her beverage back onto the table. Arms now folded in front of her, the self-satisfied smile now a full-fledged smirk. Cosima wondered, vaguely, if she was on the opposite side of a flirtation; she was certainly disarmed by this charming woman.

“Okay, okay.” Cosima acquiesced. “Occam’s Razor tells us that when you are faced with two hypotheses which lead you to the exact same conclusion that the simpler of the hypotheses is likely true.”

“Correct, very good.” Delphine offered.

“Thanks. I think.” Cosima replied.

“Now, tell me about anomalies.” Delphine demanded gently.

“Anomalies?” Cosima clarified. “Like unexpected or unusual occurrences?”

“Oui, scientific anomalies.” Delphine confirmed.

Cosima was amused and flustered all at once. It was obvious Delphine was leading her through an intentional thought exercise, but she could not decipher it at all. Frankly, she was intrigued. It reminded her of the Socratic methods of her grad school teachers; of course, none of them made her feel quite as unsteady as her new companion, for reasons not entirely related to intellect.

After establishing a line of thinking, she began, “Well, anomalies are interesting because they defy the normal expression of reality as defined by scientific understanding.”

“Mmmmmm.” Delphine appraised. “Continue, s’il te plait.”

Cosima complied, “They are useful because they can help us problematize our thinking about what we perceive as rational, normal, natural or correct, which” she added with genuine delight, “seems contradictory because anomalies are often rooted in legitimate, albeit rare, expressions of natural mechanisms.” Cosima paused, waiting for her next task.

“Is that all?” Delphine asked.

She quickly added, “Of course, anomalies can also be appreciated simply for the elegance of their absolute idiosyncrasy.” 

“I concur.” Delphine smiled. She reclaimed her coffee and sipped again.

“That’s it?” Cosima inquired. “Did I pass?”

Delphine chuckled now. “Yes, and if we apply our mutual understanding of Occam’s razor and the utility of scientific anomalies to our conversation last night, you will forgive me, if I reject your apology and ask to offer my own in it’s place.”

“You know Delphine, I am pretty smart, but I’m not sure I’m following you,” Clearly still entertained by the conversation’s nebulous intent, she added adamantly, “And I am really not sure that you owe me any sort of apology.” 

“Non, Cosima; I thought about you, about this… situation all night, and I am convinced I am correct about this; I assure you. And, if you will indulge me, I can prove it.” Delphine winked. 

Cosima, who between the “chérie,” the wink, and the “you” was unraveling a little at the edges, gestured to the space in front of them, happily inviting Delphine to continue, “By all means. Please, proceed.” 

“You see, if one encounters an anomaly, say a married woman not wearing a wedding ring,” Delphine displayed her still empty left ring finger, “what might Occam’s Razor compel one to believe about this anomalous woman?”

Cosima shook her head, chuckling softly to herself and completely in awe of Delphine’s adorable intellectual meandering. “Occam’s Razor would suggest that she is not married.” 

“Correct, even though a competing hypothesis may have existed. And if this anomalous woman, given many opportunities to correct this totally understandable mistake, fails to do so, Occam’s Razor might also lead one to believe that this same woman was a liar.” Cosima’s face shrank in disapproval at Delphine’s self-deprecating statement.

“Delphine, don’t say that.” Cosima chided.

Delphine, whose voice and face had shifted from playfulness to gravity, continued “I would not want you to think of me as a liar, so please let me apologize and explain.” 

“It’s really not necessary.” Cosima assured her, hands cutting circles through the air in front of her as if to erase the entire event.

“That may be, but I would like to all the same. Even if you do not require it, it will make me feel better.” Uninterested in denying Delphine her right to be correctly understood, Cosima sighed and nodded. 

“Merci, Cosima. Merci beaucoup.” A softness settled over the blonde, starting in her eyes, then loosening the emphatic line between her eyebrows that had last night indicated confusion, but most recently gave testament to the earnestness of her desire to apologize, finally cascading through her body in a wave that allowed her to sink comfortable into her dining chair. “You see, I don’t have many relationships with women my own age for very particular reasons,” Delphine began, “and I was so surprised to find anyone, especially a contemporary, possess such a cavalier attitude about marriage, and especially, divorce, that I wanted to hear more. So I just let you talk, and then it became clear that we had so much more in common than our unconventional regard for matrimony, that I found myself wishing we could be friends…. even though you stated that I am exactly the kind of person you would wish to avoid right now.” 

Cosima continued to listen intently, disbelief fueling an strong desire to interrupt, she was determined to hold her tongue until Delphine was finished. “It seemed that letting you believe a lie about me was a terrible way to start a friendship, and I did not know what to say to you besides the truth, so I just said it. I walked away because I did not wish to see your attitude toward me alter. I’m sorry Cosima; it was rude of me. Je suis désolé.”

It seemed incredible that Delphine was claiming responsibility, when Cosima felt so strongly that it had been her fault. Unable to contain herself she retorted, “So, let me get this straight,” Cosima’s hand, finger pointed, bounced emphatically between the two of them as she checked her reasoning, “you thought I would be upset with you for not correcting my presumptuous judgments about your life?” 

“Perhaps a little, oui.” She blushed as she nodded her head, hands folded in front of her on the table.

It was Cosima’s turn to cover Delphine’s hands with her own. “Not. At. All. In fact, I also thought about this all night, and I think I came on way too strong. I don’t blame you for not knowing how to handle me. In fact, I came here this morning, despite feeling physically ill over how I treated you, just hoping you would allow me to apologize.” Delphine’s top hand turned over to intentionally squeeze Cosima’s.

“So we are both sorry; and neither has a need to be, is that the situation?” Delphine smirked.

“Oui!” Cosima agreed! 

“So friends, then?” Cosima, in answer, returned a prolonged squeeze of Delphine’s hand.

Delphine’s tranquil expression turned arch once more as she inquired, with more than a hint of mischief, “And what about my status as a “dude”? Is this not a problem? It seems I’ve already found a way to get you to hold my hand and we are not even in Reno yet.” Again, the millisecond response of Cosima’s parasympathetic nervous system forced a flush into her cheeks and a pool of warmth elsewhere.

“Well,” she leveraged the flood of desire to make her bold, “using the paradigm we’ve established for this conversation, I guess I’ll say it this way: you, Delphine, are an anomaly that I think I can learn to appreciate, simply for the elegance of your idiosyncrasies.” It was Cosima’s turn to wink, and the obvious blush that crept up Delphine’s neck instantly rewarded her.

“So tell me about these doodles in your journal.” Delphine suggested, releasing Cosima’s hand and scooting her chair around the table to sit next to rather than across from her companion.

“Well, they are actually golgi stain progressions of human brains age 0 to 2.” Cosima clarified.

“Non,” Delphine gasped, “Fascinating.” Her fingers delicately tracing the web of lines on the page in front of her “and you are drawing them by hand? You working from the original images, non?”

“These were from originals yes; I had to leave those in the lab obviously, but when I need to relax I like to trace them; we’ve been exploring redundancies in neural pathways in the lab. It’s kind of morbid, I know, but it is easiest to see the patterns of development in the brains of infants and juveniles.” Delphine looked at the intricate, intersecting pathways of black lines cascading down the page; they reminded her of a dense root system, not that of tree whose root connect to the trunk in increasingly thicker ropes, but more like the expansive root systems of grass which are thinner and spread out in inch thick sheets under the topsoil. “See, if we flip back two pages here, see… those are neurons of a newborn, see how sparsely connected they are?” Delphine nodded affirmatively; Cosima slowly turned the pages, adding, “Then here is the same brain at six months and one year old.” 

“It is remarkable, isn’t it. How much we still have to learn about the most basic aspects of our biology?” Delphine marveled.

“Said the geneticist!” Cosima laughed. “So what have you been working on, if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Of course I do not mind, mon dieu. It is so, how does one say,” she paused, grasping for the correct word in English to express her relief, “refreshing to meet someone who is actually interested.” Delphine offered.

“Oh, I am definitely interested.” Unavoidable innuendo dripped from her words. Cosima wondered if it went unnoticed.

“Well, we are attempting to correlate certain disorders with chromosomal variation; In France, Lejuene is very close to publishing his work on Down Syndrome. My research focuses on disorders that effect the expression of sex traits in particular. So you see, if your work is morbid, mine must certainly be labeled provocative.” Delphine quipped and smiled slyly.

“So what I am hearing you say,” Cosima pressed the analogy, “is that your work focuses on understanding anomalous genetic expression; is that right?” Cosima smiled back, giving Delphine a gentle nudge.

“Absolument, c’est vrai.” Her hazel eyes fixed gently on Cosima’s, “It seems we both can appreciate the elegance of divergence.”

The arrival of their food broke the playful tension strung between them, and they ate enveloped in companionable silence, until Delphine observed how similar their tastes were, each using her preferred bread to bring the rich, warm yolk to their mouths. Cosima moaned her delighted agreement halfway through a bite. When their dishes had been cleared, neither woman made a move to leave the dining car.

“I guess we can’t stay here all day.” Cosima observed, looking around the car for something to focus on but finding nothing.

“Non, I suppose that is true.” Delphine agreed; she also seemed to be searching for an elusive something in the space around them, some reason to stay rooted to the spot.

It was Cosima who finally ventured a suggestion; an affected chivalry and western accent imbuing her words, “Well, ma’am, if you are not busy for the next little while, would you permit me to accompany you to the Pleasure Dome?” her cowboy persona broke as she smirked at her own cheekiness.

“Excuse me, ” Delphine’s jaw dropped. “That cannot be what it sounds like, I think.”

“That depends,” Cosima dared, “What does it sound like?”

“Oh, no, no, no. I am not walking into that trap; just take me to this Pleasure Dome, Cosima!”

“Anything for you darlin’.” Cosima dropped back into character and offered a hand that Delphine took easily, and she led the giddy blonde out of the dining car.

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________


	3. Tickets Please

Delphine was awestruck. How had she never perceived the depth of the night sky before?! She had chosen to spend these late hours of her last night on the steamer train in the plush, reclining chairs of the Pleasure Dome car, for the view as much as the solitude, but she had not expected such revelation in her observations.

 

What had always seemed a two-dimensional canvas, dotted with twinkling lights, now receded into incredible dimension above her head. The infinite field of stars slipped across her field of vision as the train steamed across the Utah desert, pulling her gaze deeper and deeper until it became clear to Delphine that the night sky never was a canopy at all.  With out the light pollution of the eastern seaboard obscuring her view, her faculties could recognize the endless nature of the heavens, stretched like successive layers of embellished gossamer. She was able to look past the brightest, foregrounded stars, to notice the details of expansive layers behind. With a steady, patient and languorous gaze, her eyes were able to penetrate further and further through the veil and reach toward the infinite.  It simultaneously soothed and excited her imagination.

 

She had often found the same thing true with more terrestrial concerns; that it was the moments her mind was completely relaxed, almost on the precipice of sleep, when she was able to recognize possibilities obscured to her conscious thoughts, to see seemingly unrelated details as part of a greater truth.  For example, if asked directly, she would not have stated that it had been her plan to ensconce herself in this spot for the better part of the night, but her decision to bring an extra sweater now surreptitiously doubling as an inadequate blanket would belie that fact.  As she attempted to tuck her long legs and stocking clad toes far enough up onto the generous seat to benefit from the sad warmth of her makeshift coverlet, she found herself unexpectedly content.

 

Contentment, she had presumed, would always be just out of her grasp, ostensibly, because she lacked the disposition or inclination to live only half of a life.  In the last few days, however, she had not felt the strange hollowness that had plagued her for so many months. As she embarked with a resolved, if solemn, heart toward the half-life that only her Grand’mére seemed to think was worthy of her, the empty, longing feeling that she knew was unexpectedly and inexorabley tied to matrimony had been noticeably absent.

 

No one, not her Maman, her Pére, her brother, her classmates, her friends and certainly not her husband, could fathom her rejection of the domestic bliss of married life for the isolation of academia.  But then again, none of them inhabited her skin.  None of them had experienced the profound frustration she felt when her girlfriends merely tolerated stories about her work in the lab, yet pried with insatiable and disproportionate curiosity about the content of her dinner conversations with Phillip.  None of them understood the disdain with which she received the vacuous squeals of delight and jealous congratulations than rained upon her when anyone noticed her engagement ring, but that had been obviously absent upon the attainment of her degree. None of them understood the profound foolishness that she felt when picking out her china pattern, wallpaper patterns, flatware and appliances.  None of them endured the ennui she felt entertaining her mother, who troubled over the minutest details such as the difference between ecru and eggshell, chiding her own indifference and implying that a wrong move now might mar the first years of her marriage irreparably.  “What would Phillip’s mother say if you chose something too modern? You know how these old money families are Delphine; now come look at this one.” As if any of this mattered to her… or at all, in the grand order of the universe.

 

No, none of these people, her people, understood her, and she had failed too many times to find the language to explain herself. How could she explain the panic-stricken flutter of her heart whenever anyone asked her how long before she would quit her studies and start a family?   How could she explain the rage that threatened to spill over her edges every time Phillip laughed too loudly at the dismissive jokes his friends made when she ventured a thought on politics, economics or government?  “Watch out for this one, Phillip!  She’s liable to get up to no good!”   How could she explain that her marriage, though advantageous to her father’s business interests, made her feel like a prostitute, especially when Phillip condescendingly stroked her hair and called her “baby”, explaining why it would be best for her to “forget that ‘science business’ and focus on making our house a home.”  How could she expect anyone to accept that that “science business” felt like a more genuine expression of her true self that a thousand immaculately presented dinners ever could? 

 

She had spent years trying to distinguish herself at Woodward and then at University in order to be prepared for an egalitarian world she could sense in the not so distant future; a world where a woman did not have to turn her brain off to turn a man on; a world where a woman, like the cosmos, could have depth that excited the imagination; a world where a woman did not have to lose herself to find love; a world where someone might find Delphine Cormier exciting and useful apart from her reproductive capabilities.

 

In execution, however, she discovered that she may have been too optimistic; that this future might yet be farther off than she had suspected. So in the end, when forced to choose between her two selves, she had chosen to remain Delphine Cormier and to reject the life of Mrs. Phillip Bowles.  She knew this choice resigned her to a either a platonic or salacious life, and though far from ideal, it was a life infinitely preferable to her than life as an accessory. She could find a way to weather the absence of certain corporeal _pleasures_ , but there was no way she could pretend to enjoy being slowly suffocated by a mask she hadn’t asked to wear.

 

As her body attempted to warm itself with a small shiver, she inhaled deeply, then slowly released the air from her lungs, feeling remarkably cleansed; less than 12 hours from her waypoint on this strange journey of life, she felt neither suffocated nor lonely. Indeed, the last time she remembered feeling any real melancholy was the morning she had boarded the train in Boston; the morning she had first noticed the light in Cosima’s eyes, which even the sweltering heat of the train station could not subdue.  She remembered how surprised she had been when their limbs had touched; previous to that moment she had been lost in her own mind, rereading a letter her grand’mére had sent her months before. Her grand’pére had been dead for about a year when the letter came, and her grand’mére remarked gleefully on the great freedom she felt as a widow to speak and do exactly as she pleased. Repeatedly, she affirmed her love for her late husband, but exalted her great fortune to have outlived him.

 

It was that letter that had revealed to Delphine her own heart; she knew instantly upon reading it that she did not wish to spend the rest of her life waiting for Phillip to die, and every mile that the train put between the two of them stretched any residual shreds of doubt she felt into ever thinner threads that eventually disintegrated, apparently without her even noticing.  But then she had been fairly occupied the last few days with her new friend. In fact, it was Cosima who had brought her to this car the previous afternoon, guessing rightly that she would recognize the design as derivative of Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic domes.

 

This unusual car might have simply been called a caboose were it not for the geometric glass panels that afforded riders an unimpeded view out the roof and around all sides of the train. They enjoyed the nighttime view together the previous evening.  Cosima had called Delphine a “city girl” when she wondered at the uninterrupted darkness that stretched out for miles on either side of them. And though she wasn’t certain that her new friend hadn’t insulted her, she acquiesced, acknowledging that her experience with the “untamed wilderness” was, indeed, very limited, a reality Cosima assured her would be remedied by the end of summer. “That is, if you trust me to take care of you, little lady” she had added in that adorable John Wayne impersonation. 

 

Delphine, in response, attempted her best Maureen O’Hara,  “Alright mister, draw. I said draw!”  There was a long beat of silence before Cosima began to chuckle.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” she quirked.

 

Delphine, who had almost immediately begun laughing out loud at herself, apologized.  “Désolé; it was the only line I could remember from _Comanche Territory._ ”

 

Cosima’s chuckle morphed into a full on belly laugh, which the two women shared for a good thirty seconds before regaining their composure. As her breathing returned to normal amid some high pitched sighs and appreciative groans, Cosima followed up, “So was that a yes; you’ll let me take you out?” 

 

Delphine’s bright expression turned almost instantly to confusion at Cosima’s phrasing and the quick change in the blonde’s countenance had forced her to rethink her words. “You’ll go on a hike with me? Or a horseback ride… or whatever?”  the brunette stammered.

 

Delphine, who was uncertain why Cosima’s words had effected her so, but who also regretted immediately that her own reaction had made Cosima uncomfortable, answered quickly, and intentionally, attempting to put Cosima at ease. “Oui. It would be my pleasure to let you take me out, and, of course, I trust you.”

 

Remembering the conversation, _will you let me take you out._ Delphine puzzled over this unusual woman who had simply walked into her life.  Cosima, who seemed uninterested or unimpressed by the comforts a Phillip Bowles might offer her or any woman, whose conversation never strayed into the banality of domesticity, and who made her laugh with intelligent and well-timed jokes, reminded her of the sort of man she imagined meeting in her _egalitarian sometime._ She wondered if she should feel guilty for blushing at Cosima’s friendly banter, if she was using her new friend to make herself feel better for abandoning a life of companionship for one of isolation.  She wondered for a bit longer if she was not the only woman who hed felt this way about Cosima.  Was it part of the role of a dude wrangler, even a female one, to offer women a certain kind of gallant flattery, playful and completely effective at reviving their self esteem? Or was it simply Cosima’s way? In either case, she was not inclined to alter the course of her new friendship.

 

If another woman was willing to play at flirtation with her and could make her feel valuable and complete while doing so, this new life, in her growing estimation, might not be as lonesome as she feared.  After all, men enjoyed bachelorhood surrounded by like-minded and affable companions; why could women not do the same.  Perhaps she would host salon-evenings, peopled by the most exciting and diverse thinkers. They would sip bourbon or port and share half-formed theories about the nature of existence, quote great philosophers, or perhaps even become them.  It might all be very romantic in its own right, and much more diverting than cooking an endless series of dinners for Phillip’s boss and his uptight wife. Perhaps, if she had very good fortune, she might even take a lover who found her body desirable second only to her mind.  But at that thought, she blushed and came back to awareness of her surroundings.

 

Her body had started to numb from being folded into her seat and under the sweater for the length of her silent reverie, so she allowed her legs to stretch out in front of her and her arms to reach up above her head, a muted pop along the column of her back and a satisfied groan displacing the previous silence of the night that folded around her. The absurdity of her situation became suddenly clear, as she remembered that she had a serviceable bed in her roomette and was choosing to chill her bones under the blanket of stars. She used the momentum of her stretch to pull herself upright, retrieve her shoes and slide through the few cars separating her from her private compartment.

 

As she nestled under the covers of her fold-out bed, sleep began to pull the curtain across her pre-fontal cortex; until a question, in the form of an image, emerged from her subconscious causing her to bolt upright out of her repose.  Her tired mind had conjured Cosima next to her in the small but private bed, reaching for her, eyes dark and lips parted slightly.

 

Delphine’s pulse raced; her hands flew to her face, which burned in shock and, what she was certain was, arousal. Her breathing was aggravated and her eyes welled with the many emotions she was feeling but had no idea what to do with.  Suddenly craving daylight she threw the switch on her roomette wall; the fluttering fluorescents that flicked on making her feel more disoriented than relieved. Cosima sharing her bed, coming to her bed as a lover might… Was such a thing even possible?  And if so, was it something she desired?  Or had her mind formed an absurd collage of her own meandering thoughts over the course of the evening? 

 

Willing her respiration to slow and her tears to retreat, she eased herself back down onto her pillow, but a tension clung to her body that stiffened every joint and made the muscles in her back and abdomen tremble as they attempted to release. She tried to remember Phillip’s smell, the weight of him in the bed next to her, the texture of his hands against hips when she allowed him to come to her. But as soon as she could will these sensations into being, the ghost of a memory her own mind had created displaced them.   She resisted this phantom and it’s gentle insistence for as long as she could, but sheer exhaustion eventually won out and, as she fell finally into slumber, it was with the brush of a gossamer kiss at the corner of her lips.

 

 


	4. That'll Do

**Chapter 4: That'll Do**

 

Delphine had always lamented her poor sense of direction. She was not one of those people who could easily ascertain, from the position of the sun or the fall of shadows, even the general direction of north. In her familiar, and in her travels, she always made due with landmark orienteering. Her places of residence defined the epicenters of her worlds; and her explorations away from and back towards those centers were how she learned to find her way; she noted buildings, signs and parks like trails of bread crumbs. To get to from Philip's parents house to the Schubert Theatre: _Travel along Chestnut toward the Esplanade, when you run out of road turn left on… Embankment (?) well, at any rate, turn left. When you run out of road again turn left toward Boston Common, then hard right, keeping the park on your left (keep turning left, yes) until you see the Colonial Theatre, then take the next right. In two and a half blocks the Shubert will be on the right._

She always felt vaguely inadequate when giving directions, as she couldn't answer simple questions if others did not know the same landmarks that she did; why were they so obsessed with street names and approximate distances? And as bad as she was at giving directions, taking them made her feel worse. She constantly interrupted, trying to impose her reference points over the top of other people's _turn-souths_ and _Berkshire Avenues. “That's the street with the Oak tree on the corner right?"_ For a woman so intelligent, nothing made Delphine feel stupider than not knowing where she was.

She knew in the global sense, of course, that she had been traveling west since departing from Chicago, but as the train pulled into the Reno station and Cosima, who was sat across from her in the crowed passenger car, informed her, most helpfully, that the Riverside was just five blocks to the southwest, Delphine froze. She had no way of centering herself, no way of establishing in which direction she should turn to acknowledge her friend's kind advice.  Her mind pitched and reeled. She forced an expression of recognition and gratitude onto her face that was instantly sabotaged by the flash of panic in her eyes.

Had the train come in on a true East-West line? The sun was almost at its apex for the day, so she could not even use her grammar school science knowledge to help her save face. Instead, she relied upon her default supposition that the direction she was facing _must be_ north. Glancing and gesturing back over her left shoulder then, she pretended to recognize something out the window of the passenger car while nodding her head appreciatively. She added a warm, "mmmmmm, Merci," hoping she had gotten close enough to southwest to avoid looking foolish.

The change in Cosima's expression, which had been half-distracted in the careful maneuvering of her own valise, was all the answer Delphine required. The shorter woman's mouth broke into its idiosyncratic grin as her hazel eyes, dancing with delight under twisted brows, found their way to Delphine's. Recognizing that she had been caught pretending, a shy smile replaced the false confidence that had couched itself on the blonde's face; eyes closed, she shook her golden locks and groaned quietly, bracing herself for the gentle teasing that had become habit between the two women.

Cosima, however, simply regarded Delphine with sly amusement for a few quiet moments before surprising her, pleasantly, by reaching across the space between them, slipping her fingers into the palm of the blonde's hand, squeezing gently, and responding with a mercifully sincere, "We'll get you settled."

"Merci." Delphine's quiet response ebbed with unspoken gratitude.

Cosima's eyes turned down as she responded, "It is absolutely my pleasure."

Aware that Delphine, even with her intelligence, charm and apparent strength, was about to take the first steps of a difficult journey that would change her forever, Cosima willed every bit of her compassion into the delicate strength of her grasp on Delphine's hand. "Hey, ça va?" she asked cautiously, not wanting to presume vulnerability or need where there was none, but wanting Delphine to know she was there none-the-less.

Delphine, suddenly overwhelmed by Cosima's unfaltering kindness, nodded affirmatively.  She worried her lips, which had pursed reflexively in response to her quivering facial muscles, between her teeth, hoping to dam the flood emotion threatening to betray her. She drew a deep breath in through her nose, stretching her posture a few more elegant inches, tilted her head toward the ceiling of the train car and blinked back the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. Finally, she offered a steady "Oui. Ça va bien." back to the brunette. The confidence in her voice momentarily shored up by sheer force of will. Delphine felt weak; disappointed with her failure to control the maelstrom of emotions raging inside her, but she was glad, at least, that she was 2,000 miles from anyone who might feel triumphant in the face of her struggle.

"Good." Cosima smiled, choosing to ignore the conflict Delphine was so obviously trying to hide. "So, there are usually cabs out in front of the train station; they can get you to the Riverside and help you with your bags." Cosima shared, "or if you prefer, one of Siobhan's ranch hands is coming to pick me up. We can give you a lift, if that would be easier…" Cosima's expression was open and sincere; as her eyes searched Delphine's for an answer, she tilted her head slightly, her mouth not quite closed, as if she was preparing to offer a more persuasive argument.

As their eyes met, the look on Cosima's face felt familiar. Then, suddenly, it felt _too_ familiar, causing Delphine to turn her face away. She attempted to hide the color that raced back to her cheeks at the memory of another Cosima who had kissed her to sleep just hours earlier. She retrieved her hand from the other woman's grasp and brought it to her suddenly searing forehead; she felt gut punched.

Cosima instantly noticed and was taken aback by the change in her friend's demeanor. "Hey Delphine, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? Are you ill? Did you forget something?"

Delphine's pulse echoed in her ears; she could feel it in her neck and her chest, in her shoulders and her fingers; her entire body vibrated like a roll of the timpani. She felt alive. She felt wonderful. But she also felt exposed.

What might Cosima think if she caught Delphine flushing so, as she stared into her eyes? at her lips? Or then again, she thought, perhaps Cosima was used to it. Perhaps it was intentional; all part of the job. She shook her head and her hands as she made to speak; she didn't want to think that she was just another of Cosima's lonely girls. A borrowed something, to be handled gently for six weeks and then returned to sender.

She needed to clear her head. "Non, Cosima. Of course you did nothing wrong, and I am quite well; I just... I am well, thank you. And thank you for the offer of a ride, but I would not wish to trouble you anymore than I already have. You have been very kind to me, too kind I think."

"Impossible." Cosima firmly interjected. "There is no such thing as too much kindness, especially not at a time like this." Recognizing that she was again treading a vague emotional landscape, she added quickly "you know, when you're new to a place and you don't know your way around… and you're …." her voice trailed off in resignation. There was no good way to finish that sentence, not without potentially wounding the woman of whom she had begun to feel rather protective. Delphine, herself, however, surprised them both by continuing for Cosima, her conspiratorial impishness making an unexpected resurgence.

"…and you are about to forsake your marriage vows for a chance at actual happiness?" the blonde beauty arched her brow, as she turned bravely back toward Cosima, no longer afraid to regard any part of her face.  In fact, she found she was eager to begin feeling alive as often as possible.

"Yeah," Cosima agreed, wincing apologetically. "Sorry."

Delphine, bolstered by the confidence of truth, continued. "Vraiment, Cosima, do not apologize. I am not ashamed of this decision. I have made my choice." She once again took Cosima's hand; she had stopped being surprised by how natural the gesture felt sometime the previous afternoon. "I am choosing to divorce Phillip Bowles, yes, but it is not just Phillip that I am leaving. The truth is Cosima, I am leaving my marriage because..." she stopped herself mid sentence, suddenly aware that her words were being closely attended not only by Cosima, but also by several nearby strangers as well. She lowered her voice back to a whisper, leaning closer. "Cosima, I am certain I am doing what is right for me; these other feelings of," her free hand twisted in the air as she searched for language, "sadness… regret… they are natural. I will have to go through them I suppose, but I will be fine, truly"

 “Yes, definitely. You of any woman I have ever met, in or outside of this city, will most definitely be fine!" After coming perilously close watching her friend fall apart twice, Cosima was content to let Delphine dictate the emotional direction of the balance of their conversation, though she made mental note to inquire about the end of the sentence that Delphine thought better of finishing in the company of strangers.

They both sat back in their chairs and chatted briefly about Delphine's schedule the rest of the day (she had a lawyer's appointment at four o'clock), and about Cosima's stepmother's ranch, The Double S, on the western outskirts of the city, just south of the river. Cosima promised Delphine a tour once she was settled and felt up to adventuring.

The railcar doors slid open, sooner than either woman would have liked, and as the mass of passengers thinned itself out of the car, they rose and sauntered, side by side, toward their farewell. Cosima asked once more, "Are you sure we can't offer you a ride? I'm sure Donnie wouldn't mind." And simply because she couldn't help herself, she added, "Especially once he gets a look at you." Cosima noticed, with satisfaction, the blush rising through Delphine's fair skin as _that_ smile tugged at the corners of mouth. Cosima craved _that_ smile, the chaste, vulnerable one that she seemed so consistently capable of eliciting from Delphine.

If she wasn't careful, this woman was going to be her undoing.

"You are so cheeky" Delphine bumped the other woman's hip playfully with her own, passing her arm through Cosima's and pulling their bodies close together "and you flatter me."

Feeling suddenly flushed and a bit vulnerable herself at her increased proximity to the blonde, Cosima joked, "Hey, it's a dirty job, but somebody's go to do it!"

"Mmmm, c'est vrai," came the closely whispered reply, "and you, chérie, are so good at it."

The kiss that Delphine pressed to her cheek just before pulling away and descending the few steps to the platform below stopped Cosima dead in her tracks, disorienting her completely. She felt suddenly as though she had dropped something very valuable, but couldn't bring herself to remember or care what it might have been.

           


	5. Hey Porter

Cosima, feet welded to the spot and still reeling from the touch of Delphine’s lips against her cheek, startled at the voice behind her, “Are you alright Miss?” She turned toward the voice and found a family. A man in a single-breasted tweed jacket held a small carry-all in each hand; the elbow of his left arm anchored a third suitcase to his torso; the woman standing at his right elbow held a rosy-cheeked toddler with disheveled, sandy blonde hair on one hip and the hand of a smartly dressed girl, about five Cosima observed, near her other. The oldest child, a boy, appeared to be twelve or thirteen, his features caught in the tug o’war between man and boy.  He smiled at Cosima kindly as his father continued, “Can we help you with your bags? Jimmy, help this young lady with her bag.”

 

The young man replied, ‘I’ve got it Pop.” as he reached toward Cosima.

 

“Oh, oh, no. No thank you.” she replied, pulling her bag instinctively closer to her body, a gesture which seemed to bruise the feelings of the young man, and so, to encourage him not too abandon chivalry (which Cosima usually called sexist, but which Siobhan had always insisted was ‘just good manners,’) she added,  “But thank you for the offer. It was very kind.” She refused to break eye contact with the boy until his dejected visage broke into a smile.

 

“Not a problem, ma’am.” he stepped back toward his mother, who was the next to speak,  “Are you sure you don’t need help, dear.  You look a little lost.” 

 

“I’m certain I do.” Cosima offered shaking her head at her own muddied thoughts.  The blissful fog from which the man’s voice had pulled her was dissipating, and she realized that she had no idea how long she had been standing there, struck dumb by the blow Delphine’s lips had landed within inches of her own.  The flesh of her arms, neck and cheeks tingled wildly. “And maybe I am a little, lost that is, but I’m sure I’ll find my way,”  she reassured the woman.  She gathered her wits and her belongings then and, reiterating her gratitude to the entire family, stepped down from the rail car into the bustle of activity below.

 

The midday sun shone directly into her eyes; holding her small valise just above her brow, she shielded them against the glare and scanned the crowd looking for Delphine. Donnie would be at the end of the platform, waiting for her. It was their routine to wait on the periphery of the chaos and catch-up, enjoying a lively, if brief, reunion while the crowd thinned.  Then they would collect Cosima’s baggage and head to the car.

 

Her eyes bounced through the crowd, her brain needing only a fraction of a second to ascertain the “Delphine-ness” of the individuals milling about the narrow strip of concrete that ran the length of the train, so it didn’t take too long for her eyes to find and settle on the blonde’s, now familiar, silhouette.

 

Moving at a quick step, Cosima hastily approached Delphine, who was standing a few yards from the train in the small sliver of shade provided by the depot building.  She was waving down a young man in a pressed black uniform with a structured cap on his head, his hands and arms full of at least 8 bags already, balanced with a finesse that Cosima always admired.  He acknowledged the taller woman with a nod and answered, “Stay there, Miss, and I will be right with you; if you could have your claim ticket ready.”

 

“But of course.” Delphine responded, opening her clutch bag and leafing through its contents to retrieve her baggage receipts.   

 

 “Hey Delphine, c’mon.” Cosima goaded as she approached from behind. “If you won’t accept a ride, which I think is silly, but completely your choice to make, at least let us get you and your bags to the cab stand.”

 

“Non, Cosima, the porter can help me.” she assured the brunette who stood now at her elbow.

 

“True, true,” Cosima placated, “But you have to _tip_ the porter.” She added, appealing to, what she hoped was, Delphine’s practical side. “Donnie and I will do I for next to nothing’!”

 

This made the blonde balk.  “ _Next_ to nothing?” She repeated.  “You mean you are going to charge me?! Mon dieu, Cosima; I am not giving you any money.” The blonde laughed incredulously.

 

“Who said anything about money.” Cosima teased, assuming again the persona of the charismatic buckaroo that Delphine had come to like almost as much as she liked Cosima herself.  “Haven’t you figured out yet that _I_ am _not_ interested in _you_ for your money, darlin’.” Cosima teased.

 

Happily and helplessly adopting her amatory role, Delphine turned her head as she inquired,  “Then what _do_ you want from me, chérie?” Her mischievous and seductive smile dared Cosima, who was certain an eyelash had been batted, to answer.

 

Determined not to falter first, Cosima responded with more chivalry than she felt. “Just the privilege of your company. Surely you can’t deny a man a little,” she paused long enough for innuendo to insert itself into the space between them, “polite conversation.” She winked as she finished.

 

Amused and, effectively, scandalized, Delphine immediately began laughing; she dropped the coquettish façade and sighed, having reached the point, again, at which she was uncertain how to respond to this woman who made her feel… things, with whom she could not resist playing these flirtatious games, to whom she never minded losing.

 

Triumphantly, Cosima broke character last, nudging Delphine lightly with her elbow “C’mon, please” her voice, which had dropped pretense, sounded thin and almost imploring, “Please, I’d love to see the look on Donnie’s face when he sees you!” Then, Cosima fixed her eyes steadily on the blonde’s for a few lingering seconds before adding with disarming honesty, “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

 

That look.  Those words.  They were raw. They were naked. They were vulnerable, and they changed Delphine’s mind almost instantly. Her swollen heart slid into her stomach as she realized she wasn’t ready to say good bye either, that parting ways with Cosima, which was would happen soon enough, meant relegating all they had shared over the last few days to the past… to a time before now. To memory.

 

She wasn’t ready yet to be a memory, to risk being forgotten. 

 

The train had been an unanticipated haven. An anomaly. A world apart from the world. A pause. A long breath stretched between waking and dreaming.  A refuge that they had built together and dwelled in according to their own rules.

 

Rules that allowed women to take up space, to have gravity and to know things.  Rules that allowed women to stay up all night, star-gazing and to go to bed thinking of… pleasure. They were scientists; they were human beings, they were proud, celebrating their own accomplishments instead of living in the shadows of other people’s. In the stronghold of Cosima’s company, Delphine felt confident, secure in her decision to leave _society_ in order to be in the world. 

 

She gave in to her desire. “D’accord, Cosima.”

 

That toothy grin leapt into place as she asked shyly “Really?” and before Delphine could change her mind, Cosima turned and said, “Right this way.”

 

________

 

It happened just as Cosima had predicted. The moment he laid eyes on Delphine, Donnie’s entire demeanor changed. It’s not that he wasn’t affable, helpful or even eager to see Cosima as she strode toward him with her smallish suitcase crooked in the elbow of her right arm; it was just that he was, practically, a brother to her and, as such, had long since given up trying to impress her. But the blonde’s effect on him was decidedly less sisterly.

 

Cosima recognized the look of breathless disbelief on his face as he caught his first glimpse of Delphine, who was walking beside her; in fact, she wondered if that was the look that had fixed itself to her own face the first time Delphine’s beautiful eyes had caressed it, all those miles ago in Boston. 

 

She envied him his instinctive response; Cosima always froze when women effected her like that, needing time to gain control of the stampeding sensations that flooded her central nervous system, but Donnie immediately drew himself up and tightened his abdominal muscles, making himself appear taller and leaner than he really was, readying himself to confront the torrent head on.  

 

He did this for the blonde’s sake, though he kept his attention on Cosima, striding toward her with a measured gait, a manly gait.  With each step his smile grew wider and more genuine.  When he reached her, he relieved Cosima of her travel bag, setting it down on the ground before reaching down and wrapping her in a warm and smothering embrace. He lifted her off of the ground, swinging her in a few dizzying circles as he spoke into her hair, “Welcome home, monkey! You are sure lookin’ good. God I’ve missed you!”

 

Laughing and hugging him back as he set her down, she affirmed, “I’ve missed you too, Gordo!” He cut her a playful sneer at the nickname.  Donnie, who could throw a hay bail fifteen feet, wrestle a charging steer to the ground by the horns and who had once carried an ailing calf two miles in a winter snowstorm, had the sort of physique that made him always appear a bit squishy at the edges, not like Paul, his bunkmate, who was all sharp angles and hard lines, chiseled out of marble.   

 

Guillermo, the cook, teased the two men mercilessly. He complained that all white people looked alike, so he would call Donnie, gringo Gordo, and Paul, gringo Delgado.  The nicknames had become quite popular with everyone on the ranch and stuck hard.  In fact, Delgado and Gordo were more commonly used than either of the men’s given names.  

 

“How’s Siobhan?” Cosima asked.

 

“Oh you know Siobhan,” he said, “wild as the wind in a summer storm.” Though he spoke to Cosima, he was performing for Delphine, who had stopped a few feet back from the pair, not wanting to intrude on their affectionate reunion.

 

Cosima grinned. “Are all of the guests checked in?“

 

Keeping his eyes on Delphine, he replied. “Everyone except yours, a Mrs. Smith.”

 

“Smith? Really!?” Cosima quirked, at that Donnie looked back at her.

 

“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’ monkey; the woman’s name is Smith!” Delphine didn’t entirely understand what seemed to amuse them both so much.

 

“It’s like a dime store novel, isn’t it?” Cosima observed, appreciating the irony.  “So, she’s arriving….

 

“Friday.” He cut her off.  “Three days out.  Everyone else is in and settled.  Siobhan’s gonna want you to attach yourself to that one.”

 

“Yeah, she sort of mentioned that to me already” Cosima confirmed, and pitying look in her eyes, and a disingenuous smile pulling at the right corner of her mouth. 

 

Delphine was beginning to feel awkward. Not only had she not been introduced to Cosima’s attentive companion, but the conversation they were having about this Smith woman stirred an uncomfortable feeling in her chest. How might Cosima attach herself to this Mrs. Smith?  Would she require all of Cosima’s attention? Would Cosima give it to her? She knew these were childish worries, but she struggled to chase them from her mind.  Donnie’s voice pulled her back to the present tense.

 

“So monkey, you gonna introduce me to your friend, or am I gonna have to be crass and introduce myself?” Donnie asked.

 

“Absolutely. Gordo, this is Del...” She dodged a swat from his hand, which came at her quickly.  “…phine Bowles.”

 

“Cormier.” Delphine cut her off. “I’ll be going back to my family name. Cormier.”

 

“Mmm, Cormier.”  She noticed right away that she preferred the feeling of the word Cormier in her mouth to that of the word Bowles.  “Okay, Delphine Cormier,” she smiled as the name slipped between her lips, “this is Donnie Hendrix.  He’s the stepbrother I told you about… well kind of. We were raised together on the ranch. Siobhan collects stray animals, and we both fit the bill when we were kids.”

 

Donnie regarded his “sister” with a look that felt warmer than the midday sun, put his arm around her neck, and kissed her on the top of the head.  “We sure did,” he added.

 

Delphine was surprised to learn this about Cosima. Though her first impulse was to pity them both their unconventional childhoods, they seemed happier and more comfortable with each other than most biological siblings she had ever met, so instead she found herself envying their intimacy.  It was very different than her relationship with Luc; she loved him certainly, but she wasn’t as certain that she liked him very much, if at all.

 

“Enchantée.”  She extended her hand to Donnie, which he took and smiled as he answered, “Merci.” His accent was, she observed, intentionally abysmal. “Enchanted right back atcha, Ms. Cormier.”

 

As Donnie made to kiss Delphine’s hand, Cosima plucked it from him and held it fast.  “C’mon Romeo. We are going to help get Delphine to the cab stand. Save her the tip money to cover the cab fare to the Riverside.”  Cosima explained.

 

“You’re at the Riverside? Wooooooooo. Swanky.” He observed, and Delphine did not know why, but she felt compelled to explain, removing her hand form Cosima’s.

 

“My expenses are being covered by my father-in-law.” She explained. “On the understanding, of course, that I never show my face in Boston again.” She added nonchalantly, but her gaze fell instantly to her feet.

 

“What?!” Cosima asked, flabbergasted. She reeled around to face Delphine head-on. “Delphine, that’s crazy; he can’t do that to you. Your family, your education, you life is there! Who the hell does he think he is?! I don’t care how ri…”

 

Delphine quieted Cosima by stepping close to her and laying one hand on her arm, and placing the other against her cheek. She traced the woman’s cheekbone with her thumb. “Cosima.” She moved her head to follow Cosima’s eye line, forcing her their gazes into alignment.  “Ne t'inquiète pas **.”** It was Donnie’s turn to notice an intimacy that seemed exclusive, so he turned away to offer the women privacy. “Cosima, I agreed to the arrangement because I believe it is best.  Phillip saves face, Phillip’s family saves face, and I get what I asked for, quickly and without unnecessary dramatics.” She ran both hands down Cosima’s arms, grasping her hands in front of their hips. “I forbid you to feel sorry for me, chérie.  I am getting _exactly_ what I want. And,” she added as it became clear that neither was going to look away, “if it makes you feel any better, I am touched that you would be so upset on my behalf.  Now,” she continued,  “are you going to take me to the Riverside or not?”  Delphine winked at Cosima.

 

‘Yeah?” the brunette grinned.

 

“Oui, and thank you for the ride, chérie.”

 

“Yeah, yes.” Cosima released Delphine’s hands, content with the promise of a few more minutes together and walked past Donnie. “C’mon Gordo.  Let’s get the bags.” Cosima’s gait had an extra bounce as they made their way toward the baggage car.

 

 

_______

 

On the short ride to the hotel, Delphine eavesdropped on the conversation between Cosima and Donnie, who traded questions and answers about common acquaintances and life at Radcliffe. They continued to be comfortable and adorably affectionate in their banter, but the tone of their conversation changed appreciably when Cosima asked about a baby.

 

“When is the baby coming?” Cosima inquired eagerly.

 

“Next week, we think. But it’s not an exact science.” the cowboy replied, almost apologetically.

 

“I’ve been so worried about Lucy. Siobhan told me on the phone last month that it had been a hard pregnancy this time; tell me the truth Gordo, how bad is it?” She tried to remain stoic, but it was clear to Delphine that Cosima cared for this Lucy and feared for her well being.

 

“I won’t lie to you monkey, it was really touch and go a couple of times, but she is doing fine now.” Donnie grabbed her hand and squeezed reassuringly.  “The doc says the pregnancy is… oh, what’s the word he used… ‘unremarkable’ yeah, unremarkable at this point, is what the doc said.  I think we’ll cut her out tomorrow or the next day and keep her separated until it’s over.”

 

“Thank goodness,” Cosima was visibly relieved. “Siobhan had me worried.”

 

“Nah, nothing to worry over.  Lucy and the baby are both going to be fine.” He smiled at her as he parked the car outside of the angular brick building. 

 

It’s façade was impressive, elegant accents, but not gaudy as Delphine had expected from a hotel in a casino town, even a “swanky” one as Donnie had assessed it.  The building was topped by white latticework framework with the letters attached that proudly declared the hotel’s famous name: The Riverside Hotel.

 

Not wanting to pry, Delphine did not inquire about the obviously sensitive conversation she had just overheard. Instead she politely accepted Donnie’s offer to transfer her bags from the back of the vehicle to the concierge desk, while she, reluctantly, took her leave of Cosima.

 

The two women stood awkwardly for a moment, facing each other, both, at turns,  starting to speak, but backing down, or ceding the floor to the other, in an awkward dance of emotion, insecurity and etiquette.  

 

Cosima finally spoke, though she, uncharacteristically, could not will her eyes to land upon Delphine’s features for more than a millisecond before they sought refuge elsewhere. “So this is a nice hotel for sure, and there is a lot to do downtown, but you are more than welcome at the ranch anytime. Just give a shout.  The front desk has the ranch house number.  You remember the name right?” Cosima rambled.

 

“The Double S, non?” Delphine pretended to confirm, as if she could forget a single detail about this woman’s life.

 

“Yep, that’s exactly right! Impressive memory, Ms. Cormier.” Delphine’s surname slid across Cosima’s lips like satin, triggering a familiar ache that was not diminished by the blonde’s next move.

 

Delphine leaned in, offering a cautious, but firm, embrace that Cosima tried to mirror in strength and duration. Pulling back from one another, finally, Cosima was again paralyzed by the pressure of Delphine’s lips, which had glanced across her right cheek and moved to her left, landing, again, just above the corner of her mouth.  “Merci, Cosima, for all you have done for me.  It really has been the most extraordinary surprise meeting you.”

 

Cosima’s veins throbbed under her skin; she felt certain she would faint if she didn’t do something to break the tension immediately.  

 

Always most comfortable with humor, she retorted instinctively, “Well, yeah, because I am incredible!” the forced bravado effectively masking the soul-crushing insecurity making Cosima’s torso muscles quake. 

 

Delphine laughed at this, shaking her head and adding, “Yes, chérie, you are. À bientôt.” She waved with the tips of her fingers, turning her body toward the hotel, but keeping her gaze fixed on Cosima. “Bye,” she whispered through the air between them, waiting until she was certain her words had hit home before finally looking away and walking into the Riverside.

 

Donnie, who was just walking out of the lobby as Delphine sauntered in, stared slack-jawed at Cosima. He gave her a playful shove as he passed. “C’mon Romeo! Let’s go.” he chuckled.

 

“Donald,” she scolded lovingly, “Shut. Up.”

 

“Monkey, you’re not fooling me with that one.” He bragged as he slid back into the driver’s seat and closed his door with a _thud_.   “Now, you tell me, what happened on that train young lady?!”

 

Cosima, who had just closed her own door, melted against it sighing, she turned toward her brother and spoke. “Just drive, Gordo. Drive, and I’ll tell you all about it.”


	6. Check In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Many thanks to jaybear1701 for betas-ing! And to zephyrchild for the language consult. And finally, to satousei13 for the amazing cover art! I am seriously humbled by the support this community is giving this story!

Aldous Leekie’s corner office was a study in mahogany, a masculine cliché.  The reddish brown veneer covered every surface upon which Delphine’s eyes landed, and she had to wonder, for a moment, if her own lawyer had recommended Leekie because they shared a passion for Kittenger colonial reproductions rather than out of any particular regard for his legal mind. Indeed the letter writing desk, the conference table, the wine stand (which, incidentally, appeared to hold only scotch), the corner basin, and a particularly ingenious, single-legged, corner table, all would have made fine additions to Felix Dawkins’ already robust collection of faux antiques, which were in their own right becoming quite collectible.

 

Delphine was not impressed by the pieces outside of their connection to her British barrister; she preferred the curvilinear minimalism of modern designers. Herman Miller was her particular favorite, and Felix never missed the opportunity to tease her about her penchant for the practical at the expense of beauty.   “Non, mon ami,” she would retort, “there is far greater elegance in simplicity than in artifice.”

 

“Not artifice, art.” he would correct her.

 

“C'est le même.”    _Same thing._ She would suggest dismissively.

 

Quite unexpectedly, she and the young lawyer had become close friends over the last few months. Felix, of all people, seemed to understand better than most what she meant when she described the suffocating masquerade of married life.  And he, unlike Phillip, treated her as an equal; he showed compassion for her without ever crossing the line into condescension.  He never felt threatened by her intelligence and engaged gleefully in discourse with her on any topic she broached.  Facts, she slowly came to understand, that were functions of his homosexuality.

Though he never specifically disclosed the information, he also never attempted to censor or edit his reactions when they were together.  The appreciative adjectives and hungry gazes he cast at young men gave her more than enough information to permit understanding.  She adored his confidence; she coveted it really, and when he gave her advice she listened, hoping it might help her locate a similar well-spring in her own heart.

 

“When you’re on a sticky wicket, best to go off your own bat!” had been his parting words to her, as he placed the tickets, bank documents and his own private contact information in her hands. Of course, she had no idea what he meant, and her brow creased down the centerline as she wondered which facet of American or British popular culture had escaped her study.  Thankfully, he elaborated, “Delphine, you’ve been long enough on the difficult side of life; time for you to do what you want, love! It’s your time. So when life gives you the chance out there in the middle of nowhere, you grab it.  Live a little; for both of us!” He winked, then kissed her as he took his leave, and she hoped, eagerly, that they would meet again sooner than later.

 

As she lowered herself into the hard wooden chair across from Aldous Leekie, separated by the wide expanse of his reddish brown desktop, she missed Felix’s companionship tremendously.

Her new counselor had greeted her in the waiting room with a casualness that reminded her of how common place her problems must seem to the citizens of this odd little town. She, though striking enough to have drawn compliments already from the front desk clerk, the bellboy and Leekie’s receptionist, surely appeared a very pedestrian sort of woman to everyone she had met, and would meet over the next six weeks, in Reno.

 

In Boston, her _friends_ whispered the word “divorce;” keeping a safe distance as if the word itself were a communicable disease. Sentiments of pity and shock chased her as she moved through rooms, crashing together in mid-air and materializing into rumor and innuendo.  If there were three or more _ladies_ in a room, no one would make eye contact with her in case another might observe and imply later that she was sympathetic to _that Bowles woman_.   It wasn’t that divorce in Boston society was uncommon, but no one had _ever_ left a Bowles, and Delphine’s rejection of Phillip shook the family, and consequently, the city to its foundation.

 

The Cormier-Bowles wedding was _the_ social event of the 1957. The Boston prince of pharmaceuticals vowed his undying love and devotion to the princess of Cormier Laboratories., who shyly accepted his ring.  The result: the largest medicinal research and manufacturing conglomerate in U.S. history.

 

Delphine’s father, Étienne, had spared no expense to offer the old-money Bowles family a wedding to remember. He had hired the entire Boston Symphony Orchestra, who began their program a full hour before guests began arriving at 4:00, and continued to impress throughout the entire evening and into the wee hours of the morning. No fewer than 2,000 deep red roses had been arranged in startlingly ornate bouquets of 50, displayed in Tiffany vases on each reception table and in standing urns up the side of each aisle way. Elaborate ice sculptures of cherubs and swans lined the edges of the outdoor garden venue; he had even commissioned a custom sculpture that perfectly captured the likeness of Phillip’s great grandmother who had passed away two months prior to the engagement. Phillip’s mother was particularly impressed, weeping at this addition, which Étienne had held back as a surprise. And naturally, as it was a party, obscene amounts of Dom Péringon flowed in fountains, into cups, and across the palates of 400 intentionally selected guests. Delphine, herself, imbibed quite a bit more than her mother would have liked.  She held her tongue, though she struggled to control the admonition in her eyes.

 

                  Despite the besotted bride, their wedding had been planned and executed flawlessly; the only detail that had been neglected was her consent.

 

Of course, she had said “Yes” when Phillip offered her the ring; of course, she had said “Yes” when her father arranged their meeting all those months prior, when he announced his desire to introduce her to “this young man with tremendous prospects;" of course she had said “Yes,” at the age of ten, when asked if she should like to wear her grandmere’s wedding gown, which had also been worn by her mother.

 

Of course she said “Yes.” She had learned, as all girls did, that getting married was the way a young woman got on in the world. She witnessed it… in generations of family photos and in the homes of all of her friends, in books and in the shops, in the movies and on the radio dramas.  She had learned that women needed men to take them from girlhood to womanhood; they married to become who they were meant to be.  She had learned it all, and learned it well before she was old enough to even wonder at its veracity.

 

That thought wouldn’t occur to her until over a decade later while sitting under a hair dryer at the salon. Waiting for her broad, blonde curls to set, as the hum of the dryer and the creeping warmth of its diffuse, yet forced, air lulled her into a state of relaxation, bordering on the meditative, images of helical structures and letter strings: G-C, A-U, O-H-H-H-N-N, XX, XY, XXY, occupied her mind. She thought deeply about the puzzle of genetics, the questions of inheritance, recessive traits, mutation and development. She wondered which of her own characteristics might be fixed, attributable to the combination of her parents genetic matrices, and which might be flexible, a codification of her experience, learned but not innate.  

 

It wasn’t until the salon girl had lifted the hinge of the domed appliance that she became more specifically aware of many thoughts that had been absent from her reverie.   Unlike the other women, whose domestic dialogues had interrupted her scientific musings, she had spent 30 minutes lost in her own mind and had entertained no thoughts at all of clothing, or cleansers, or children, or chores, or recipes, or romance, or Phillip. And when her girl asked about her husband’s career and their eventual plans for children, she forced a smile and participated, “of course we want children,” she lied, like an imposter in her own life story, “but not until I am finished with school.”   The actual Delphine didn’t really care about being a mother or a wife, and she wasn’t particularly good at hiding it. But for Phillip’s sake and for her parents’, she tried, even believing that one day she might (might), have a change of heart.  

 

                  It was little wonder that when Leekie introduced himself and invited her into his spacious office to discuss the “details of this divorce business” she had assumed he meant it euphemistically, but what she found rather quickly was that it did seem to be, for him, not a matter of solemnity or pity, but rather of exchanging fee for service.   The older man, tall and slight like herself, was balding; his eyes, despite being slightly sunken, were kind.

 

                  “Welcome to Reno Mrs. Bowles.” he began.

 

“Cormier,” she corrected.

 

“Ah yes, Cormier; if you prefer.” His deference was genuine.

 

“I do.” she affirmed.

 

“I trust you are settled at the….” he scanned through his notes, “Riverside, is it?”

 

“Oui.” she replied.

 

“Very good. I want to mention some rules before we go over the process.”

 

“I believe my lawyer covered everything.  I can do almost anything I want as long as I don’t leave the state, correct?” she summarized.

 

“More or less, yes, barring criminal activity, of course.” he said, not quite ironically. “But you should know; the California border is a lot closer than you think it is, and if anyone can testify that you were not in six weeks of continuous residence, we’ll have to start your time and petition from scratch.” he warned.

 

“I understand.” Delphine assured him. “And I have no wish to delay my departure; I am due in Berkeley at the end of the summer.”

 

“I see. Not heading back East then?” Leekie probed.

 

“Non.” There was a lull in the conversation, but Delphine offered no further details despite Leekie’s inquiry.

 

“So let’s get down to brass tacks.” He refocused on the purpose of their meeting.  “Everything we are going to do is pretty standard. I’ll write the petition for you based on our interview today.  The day before your graduation, you will come back here to the office and sign all of the necessary statements. The next day we will go in front of the judge. You and a witness, who must be a resident of Nevada, will testify that you have resided here for a full and continuous six weeks; the judge will verify your statements from the petition, and, as long as you don’t change your mind, you will be a free woman. Six weeks from today.”  He made it sound so simple, like paying the tax bill or changing the milk order.  She wondered how many divorces he was working on at the moment, but decided it best not to inquire.

 

                  “Do you have any questions Ms. Cormier?”

 

“Non, let’s proceed.”

 

“I really only need two pieces of information from you: Grounds and witness.” he explained.

 

When she hesitated he continued. “Nevada law allows for divorce in nine different circumstances; you let me know when I get close.” As he began to list the actionable grounds, he watched her expression for a hint of recognition.  It was a game he had played before, she was certain. “Impotency. Adultery.  Desertion.  Conviction of a felony.  Habitual drunkenness. Neglect to provide the common necessities of life.  Insanity. Living apart for three years. And last but not least, extreme cruelty entirely mental in nature.” He had made it through the list; Delphine had not flinched.

 

She listened more out of curiosity than anything; she hadn’t known she would have options and wanted to consider them all.  Of course she was amused by impotence, but did not wish to offend Phillip and delay his signing; she also wondered if respect and equanimity were “common necessities of life.” In the end, she deferred to Leekie’s judgment.  “Whatever you think is best.”

 

“Mental cruelty it is then.  It’s a generic term we use when things just don’t seem to work out.” he assured her with a wink.

 

“Je comprends.” she replied. 

 

“Now for the witness,” he continued, “since you are at the Riverside, the front desk manager is usually subpoenaed for that task; it'’ standard operating procedure for of out-of-towners.  He’ll be your witness, unless of course you have another friend or relation here in town, but I assu-“

 

“Cosima.” she blurted, cutting him off.  “Cosima, at the Double S. Cosima, uhhh,” she stammered. “Mon Dieu, why can’t I remember her last name. It must be the fatigue of travel.” Delphine rolled her eyes at herself, trying to cover the fact that she did not actually know Cosima’s last name.  She hoped she wasn’t being presumptuous, but she knew she wanted Cosima to be her witness.

 

“Cosima Niehaus?” he filled in the blank for her. “Siobhan’s girl?” He raised his eyebrows, knowingly. What he thought he knew was not plain to Delphine.

 

Gambling on the fact that there was only one Siobhan with a girl named Cosima in the whole of Reno, she exploded with faux recognition and gratitude, “Niehaus, oui; that is it! Merci, Mr. Leekie.”

 

“Aldous," he insisted.

 

“Merci, Aldous.” she humored him.

 

“Alright. It’s a little unusual, but not illegal certainly. I’ve actually got all of her information already." He seemed intrigued at her choice. "If you don’t mind me asking, why not stay at the Double S, if you already have a relationship with Cosima?  Are you two,” he paused longer than necessary, “school friends?”

 

“Non, we met on the train; I had already made arrangements at the Riverside. She was kind to me, and I’d rather have her stand with me than a stranger," Delphine explained. She couldn’t exactly identify the look on the lawyer’s face, but it might have been disappointment.

 

“Well, I can certainly understand that.” he acquiesced as he stood. “Good luck to you, Ms. Cormier. If you have any questions or need anything while you stay with us, don’t hesitate to call. And remember to bring Ms. Niehaus back here with you in August. She’ll have some papers to sign as well.” He extended his hand, which she shook as she rose.

 

“Merci,” she said again, “I will remember.”  She turned and left, anxious to eat and finish unpacking.

 

__________________________________________

 

The room was much grander than she had anticipated. It was a suite of rooms actually; one entered into a large long sitting room with windows along the far and the shorter right walls, thanks to its situation at the back corner of the top floor.  Also to the right, hugging the hallway-side wall was a kitchenette, with a sink, a small refrigerator and a two burner stove over an electric range.  Cabinets held and assortment of cookware, dinnerware, and even a toaster and a coffeemaker.  The left wall had three doors: the far one led to a large bedroom with a lovely view and a private bath; the second to a smaller water closet; and the final to another, less spacious, bedroom.  Delphine assumed it might be intended for children.  The furniture was modern and serviceable.  A brown couch and two light blue sitting chairs circled a low coffee table in the middle of the room. A four seat dinette was arranged near the small kitchen and a particularly comfortable looking chaise lounge sat angled between the corner windows, affording a great view of the river below.

 

She would have been impressed that John had taken such care for her comfort, except she knew it had likely been his secretary who arranged it. She would have to send Margaret a thank you card.

 

The Riverside, as suggested by its famous name, did indeed sit directly on the river’s edge, and Delphine could see and hear from her suite windows the currents eddying around large rocks and tree roots that had grown out of the bankside and now hung into the waters of the Truckee. She enjoyed listening to the sounds of the water and of the people six stories below her.  She decided, upon finishing her meal and returning the rolling room service cart to the hallway, that she had had enough of admiring so much beauty from afar the last week and was ready to get a closer look. She changed from her dress flats into a pair of canvas tennis shoes, grabbed a sweater and headed down to the street.

 

The city had crafted a lovely river-walkway the length of the downtown corridor, and Delphine decided she would follow it.  As she traced the length of the river with her eyes, she noticed the sun setting in the direction of the waters origin. _So that’s west_ she thought with satisfaction, meaning she must be facing north as she looked across the river.  She was standing on the south bank, the same side of the river she understood, without even realizing she had been thinking about it, that touched the Double S. The side of the river that Cosima was on.  Something in the water, just upstream, caught her attention; it was a leaf still attached to a small twig, being carried on by the current in a lazy sway.  Her eyes followed it as it approached and then passed her; she considered walking east, following the leaf until she lost sight of it altogether, but knew instantly that she would be unsatisfied with that adventure.

 

She acknowledged to herself, with relative ease and only a little heat, that she had come down to the river for a single purpose. Because she knew it might lead her to Cosima.  The urge to be able to locate the brunette, to know where they were settled relative to each other, seemed like the most important step in orienting herself to her new home. She turned left and began to walk, against the current and toward the setting sun, completely unaware that three miles ahead of her, Cosima was out riding, looking for her as well.


	7. Mucking Out

She sat tall, forward in the saddle. Hips rolled down into the seat, thighs turned slightly over and inward, feet perched in the stirrups. Her back was tall, spine straight and shoulders loose, with the reins hanging freely in her hands, which lay, relaxed, on either side of the saddle horn.

 

The posture was half instinct and half consciousness.  Cosima never felt quite as aware of or capable in her own body as when it was connected to another living thing, symbiotically; two creatures moving, responding as one.

 

 She missed riding during the academic term; partly because of the solitude, the time to reflect and think… and fantasize. But mostly because of Darwin.  They had been friends since he was born, a giant puppy of a creature who had eyes for her from the beginning, as she did for him. 

Though Darwin’s parents, both registered Appaloosas had been snow-capped (white over the rump with dark mottling across their hind quarters), their foal was born white as the Sierra Nevadas in winter, with a spray of black spots across his body, legs, neck and face.  Cosima had exclaimed upon his birth, “It looks like he was sired by a Dalmatian!”  No one argued with her, and after several lively debates about genetics and the traditions of horse registry, Siobhan let Cosima name the new addition to the family.

“It’s not about _luck_!” Cosima exclaimed, slapping her thighs in exasperation. “His coloring is a relic of the geographic history of the breed! The leopard pattern helped his progenitors survive the winter in the mountains of China; tribal artifacts put his ancestors there centuries ago.”

“If it makes you happy, kitten.” Siobhan had answered with such adoration in her voice that it could have been understood as condescension.  “Of course,” she added with mischievous intent, “It also might just be what happened when Lucky and Belle laid down together. A name is a name is name, love”

“Siobhan, I was there, and neither one of those animals was _laying down_ with anyone; I can tell you that for sure!” Cosima sassed.

            “I find it hard to believe,” Siobhan ignored Cosima’s flip, if factual, retort and continued, “that you don’t see the hand of fate in all of this, even a little bit.  Have you considered, love, why Lucky and Belle? Would it have happened with any other sire? Or dame? Will it happen again? And,” she teased, beaming adoration at Cosima, “how would Charles Darwin explain a snow white horse in the middle of a desert?”

            “Science and fate are mutually exclusive, S!” Cosima proclaimed incredulously.

            “Are they?” Siobhan asked, feigning innocence as a type of ignorance.

 “Yes!” Cosima was adamant.  “Because there is no such thing as fate! And _that_ is why we’re calling him Darwin!” She flung herself down at the kitchen table and set about completing the registry paperwork. “I don’t care what other words are on this piece of paper!

The older brunette rose and stretched, shuffling over to her daughter, who was almost a silhouette, lit by the single bulb fixture hanging over the top of the round oaken table. She kissed her daughter on the top of the head before rinsing her coffee cup in the sink and heading through to bed. “I love you, kitten; see you in the morning.”

            “And we live in a high mountain desert.” Cosima mumbled half-heartedly; it a parting shot that she did not expect to land.

            “Whatever you say, kitten.” Siobhan placated, and Cosima grinned and shook her head.

            “I love you, too.”

Siobhan Sadler, as a matter of course, never forced her own perceptions, ideals or opinions on her children, perhaps because she saw them each as a gift, entrusted to her by fate.  Her responsibility, but never her property. She believed that her job was to bring them from the darkness into the sunlight, to provide them plenty of water and food, and opportunities to run, to read, to play, to work, to sweat and to sing.  She trusted them each to find their own way.  She also understood, however, that all folks occasionally stumble, so she tried to live a life, steadfast and compassionate, that they might emulate when they lost their way.

            So it came as a bit of a shock to Cosima, when, having heard Donnie’s detailed report of Cosima’s “railway romance,” (despite Cosima’s dismissal and objection that it was “no such thing,”) Siobhan immediately took a stand.  “Don’t you give up on this girl, kitten.  You are both here for the next six weeks; you owe it to yourself to see what comes next.”

            “Okay, whoa!” Cosima responded defensively, sitting straight up to the edge of the couch that had been cradling her tired frame. “’What comes next?’ You guys don’t even know this woman.  Seriously!!  And if we’re being honest, I don’t know her either!  So, I can quit whatever I want to quit.  It was a train ride; it’s done. I’m home, and I have a job to do.”

            It was Donnie who spoke next, “I know what I saw, Monkey.  If that woman looked at me like that, touched me like that, I’d have very little doubt about the rest.” A single eyebrow leapt up in implication before he continued.  “And, even if you’re right and I’m reading her wrong, I can read _you_ like a book, and you haven’t had _that_ look on your face since….” his voice trailed off.

            “Just don’t, Donnie, please.” Cosima warned, pointing a finger at him from across the coffee table.  

Donnie shook his head and moved his hand to rub the back of his neck.  He spoke with measured breathe and firm but kind words. “Okay, okay.  But you listen to me Cos, I love you, and I’ll be damned if I am going to hold my tongue while I watch you throw away the most gorge…”

 

“Donnie, sweetheart,” Siobhan inserted as she moved closer to Cosima’s side, “give your sister and I a minute. Would you please?”  She rubbed her hand across Cosima’s tense shoulders, working her way around to the far side and squeezing until she felt the young woman melt into her embrace.

            Knowing that there was no dissuading their mother on the rare occasions that she decided to assert herself, he stood,  “Yeah, sure.  Paul’s gonna need a hand with the stalls when he gets back any way.”  He headed through the kitchen and out the side door that led toward the barn.

 

            “Hey,” Cosima’s shout caught Donnie by the collar as he cleared the threshold and pulled his head back through the doorway, “leave Darwin’s. I want to come out and say ‘hi’ later. I’ll muck out after I brush him down.”

            “Sure thing, Monkey; he’ll be happy to see you.  I can saddle him up if you want to take a ride.”

“Thanks; that sounds great, Gordo.” Cosima smiled at him,

Donnie disappeared again, his parting words muffled by the closing door, “Make sure you ask her about the science stuff, S!”

            A bemused Cosima rolled her eyes; a laugh stopped short in her chest. She nuzzled her into Siobhan’s neck and hugged her before settling back into the couch cushions, waiting for the first question.  Mrs. S. focused on Cosima and spoke slowly.

            “Is she smart?” Cosima nodded.

“As smart as you?” Cosima nodded. 

“Is she kind?” Cosima nodded. 

“As kind as you?” Cosima nodded.

“And you like her?” Cosima nodded.

“And she likes you?” Cosima hesitated, a montage of sideways glances, shy smiles, shared revelations, interlaced fingers, flashes of heat, awkward departures, and fictitious flirtations flashed through her mind.  She shrugged her shoulders, looking down, hiding her face from the woman who was watching her, assessing her.

Siobhan probed further, “Does that mean ‘I guess so,’ or ‘I’m not sure.’”

Cosima’s entire person shifted in demeanor; usually open and effusive and confident, Siobhan watched her daughter wilt, tears springing to her eyes, threatening to spill over the bottom lids, a grimace of pain twisting her brow and lips.   As Cosima fought to hold back the torrent of emotion, Siobhan moved to kneel down in front of her daughter, taking her hands and squeezing until Cosima, a solitary tear trailing down her cheek, turned to face her.

“Kitten,” the woman spoke knowingly, “twenty four years ago the universe saw fit to bring you into being and, six years later, made sure you found your way home to me.  Cosima, you have been blessed with a quick mind and a loving heart, and over the last eighteen years I have watched you put both to the best possible uses.  I couldn’t ask for a better child, and no one who knows you would ever question your intentions _or_ your character. So why do you?” Siobhan paused waiting to see if Cosima might respond, and when she didn’t, sitting silent still, the older woman continued, “Do you really think that just because you were made a little differently that you don’t deserve every bit as much of the love that you show others?  You know you’ll never get it playing games with people.”

“I’m not playing games, S!  I’m surviving.”  Cosima’s tone was harsh. “I know what I deserve, and I also know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, do you?” Siobhan’s tone challenged her daughter.

“Yeah I do.  I know it’s not what you want for me, but it works.” Cosima explained. “I get what I need, and no one gets hurt.”

Uncharacteristically, Siobhan corrected, “I think what you mean, child, is, _they_ get what they need and _you_ don’t get hurt.” She rarely made it her habit to force truth onto other people, especially personal truths, and especially onto people she cared for, but her concern for Cosima was pushing her toward that end.

“What is that supposed to mean?” a subtle rage brewed under Cosima’s words.

“Do you really want me to tell you, kitten? Because I can’t unsay it once it’s out.” Siobhan warned.  Cosima, caught between the fatigue of self-deception and the need for self-preservation, raised her eyebrows in a feeble dare.  Siobhan readied herself with a calm, deep breath and then spoke. “What it means, my darling girl, is that you let women use you to make themselves feel better because it is _safer_ for _you_ ,” and after a moment of silence that hung uncomfortably long between them, Cosima’s eyes staring blankly ahead, but beginning to soften, Siobhan continued, “I know you still think about her.”

At that Cosima stiffened, eyes fierce once again, “I told you; I don’t want to talk about her.”

“But Cosima, you have to. _She’s_ the reason you do this to yourself. _She’s_ the reason you won’t believe that this woman, or any woman, might care for you, might actually be capable of loving you.  And you refuse to even acknowledge it, let alone work through it, so you’re stuck, child. Stuck feeling it all of the time, so mired down in fear that you are missing your chance a happiness.” Siobhan’s words were gentle now, holding Cosima’s heart above the pain she knew they must have been causing.

             It had been six years since Emily Callahan had walked away from Cosima’s tearful embrace and pleading words to become Mrs. Peter McNamara. Six years since Cosima had held any one… kissed anyone… sent fumbling hands across the landscape of…. any one. Six years of dude wrangling, of bravado and affected flirtation, of false confidence and chivalry. Six years of recreating the illusion of affection, the excitement of romance, filling the well of her heart with sand that made it feel full, yet unbearably heavy at the same time. 

            They sat in silence a few minutes longer before Cosima, quite to Siobhan’s surprise, spoke, “I thought she loved me, S. I was so sure.” Her tears spilled now unimpeded. “How can I ever trust my own feelings again, knowing I was so wrong?” Her tone was almost pleading and Siobhan let her hand come up to stroke Cosima’s cheek.  “I know you don’t approve of how I am with these women, but it’s what I want.  It’s what I need. It makes me feel.  And, God, it feels _so_ good to feel, to remember what hope felt like, what infatuation felt like…. “

            “What love felt like?” Siobhan interjected.

            “Yeah,” Cosima whispered, she took the tissue Siobhan had retrieved from the table top box.  “I’m scared S.”

            “I know, kitten, but what if you don’t have to spend the rest of your life courting memories.  You _are_ strong enough; I promise.” She stroked her daughter’s hair, and the younger woman dried her eyes.  “And you don’t have to fall in love; maybe just stop hiding from the possibility.” The older woman’s words were warm and encouraging; she took the spent tissue and offered a fresh one.

            “I don’t know if I can.” Cosima confessed, a sniffle helping her regain some composure, “What if I don’t remember how?”

            “Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try, will you?” They smiled at one another.

            “No I guess not,” Cosima conceded.

            “Besides, kitten, the heart is resilient; it wants to feel.”

            “Yeah?” Cosima asked, genuinely. 

            “Yes, love.” Siobhan affirmed.  “How do you think we became a family?”  They enjoyed the warmth of each other’s presence for a moment before Siobhan ventured a new topic of conversation. “So tell me more about the,” she spoke the last word almost euphemistically, “science.” and Cosima couldn’t help but giggle at her mother’s attempt at salaciousness.

            “Where do you want me to start.” she asked, knowing Siobhan would not be content until she had the whole story.

 

            As she felt Darwin’s gait break underneath her hips, she realized she’d been lost in thought, over whelmed by the generosity of her mother’s spirit and exhilarated, if a little nervous, about the idea of being open to the possibility of _Delphine_.   Her equine companion had stopped at a tree, recently fallen, across the trail.  Cosima considered taking it as sign that she had done enough exploring for one night, and she contemplated turning her mount back toward home, but then, suddenly, she felt the urge to jump.

            When she had confessed to Siobhan her initial failure to read Delphine’s circumstances correctly, her mother had raised her brow in an obvious critique of the scientific method, which led to a rebuttal from the younger woman that involved an explanation of Occam’s Razor and an interesting discussion about the significance of wedding rings.  Cosima described Delphine’s research, to the best of her recollection, and Siobhan, being the only female rancher in the valley, nodded in understanding as Cosima recounted Delphine’s frustration with negotiating space in a man’s world.  After watching Cosima glow through her recounting of the last few days, Siobhan suggested that Delphine come to dinner sometime soon.

            “If you’re riding out any way, you may as well head to the Riverside.” Siobhan suggested, feigning innocence through her guilty grin.

            “What if she says, ‘no’?” Cosima worried.

            “Then she says, ‘no.’ But you will have tried. Nothing great was ever accomplished without at least a tiny leap of faith.”

            She tapped Darwin’s side with her right heel and pulled the reins lightly in the same direction, leading the horse in a wide arc away from the tree and lining him back up about twenty feet up the trail; it was an easy leap, but he needed some room to gather his gait.  Cosima lifted herself out of the saddle and gave him the signal, “Ha,” she breathed, as she gave his midsection a nudge.  In a few quick strides, horse and rider were both over the obstacle, Cosima’s body simply reacting, as Darwin had vaulted them, lazily, through the air.  As she settle back down into the saddle, she felt freer than she had in years.  She was just about to urge Darwin into a trot, growing impatient with their slow progress toward the Riverside, when she heard a familiar accent caress the syllables of her name.

            “That was very impressive, Cosima.” Delphine stepped toward the trail from behind a large Aspen, “and also very impressive was…” she approached the stunned brunette, reaching out the stroke the length of her horse’s nose, “who is this stunning creature?”

            “Uh,” Cosima’s tongue took a moment to catch up with her mind; Delphine’s presence caught her completely off guard.  She had planned to gather her nerve over the entirety of the three mile ride, and they were barely half way through. “um, Delphine Cormier, may introduce you to Charlie Darwin’s Luck of the Draw.” And as she introduced them she quickly dismounted, sliding between Delphine and her massive companion in order to move the reins into the lead position.

            Delphine immediately began laughing. ‘Charlie Darwin’s Luck…?” she faltered for the ending.

            “Luck of the Draw.” Cosima repeated, confidence resurging at having some sort of upper hand, even if it was, literally, only a nominal advantage.

            “That is quite a name.” Delphine observed, appreciatively.

            “Well, since you guys aren’t close friends, yet.” Delphine’s smile widened at the idea of _yet._ “and since I gave him your full name, I could hardly just call him, Darwin now, could I?” Cosima chided comically.  The idea of employing the reciprocity of formal etiquette with a horse amused Delphine to no end, and she congratulated herself on the decision to seek out Cosima’s company.  She already felt more at home.

            “C’est vrai,” she agreed, forcing an ill-fitting veneer of propriety over the top of her obvious delight.  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she spoke the name this time slowly, one careful word at a time, “Charlie. Darwin’s. Luck. of the. Draw.” She nodded confidently at the last, and Darwin acknowledged her with a muted whinny.

            “What’s that boy?” Cosima said, dipping her head toward his bit. “Oh, Okay. I’ll tell her.  He says you should call him Darwin; I guess he thinks your friends already.”  Cosima shrugged and flashed a toothy grin that melted Delphine’s joints and plucked at her nerves, causing them to tingle.  The blonde noticed how the setting sun set fire to the Cosima’s silhouette, lining her features with a shimmering ribbon of light.  And it took every ounce of control she could muster to stop herself from reaching out to touch it.  Instead she tucked a lock of her own hair behind her left ear. “I have to say, Delphine. That was pretty fast; it usually takes him weeks to warm up to new folks.”

            “Well,” Delphine offered, dismissively, but holding Cosima’s gaze pointedly, “I guess I just have that effect on people.”

            Cosima nodded slowly, “I guess you do.” She reached out and claimed Delphine’s hand with her own. “So Delphine, can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course, chérie.” Delphine, dragged her toe backwards through the dirt as she anticipated Cosima’s words, wondering what this startling woman might ask of her, wondering if there was anything she would refuse her.

            Cosima fought every urge to affect her words and demeanor, “Delphine Cormier, would it be alright with you if,” she paused then started again, “I mean, would you mind if…” Delphine was surprised by Cosima’s obvious nerves and wondered if she should brace herself for a blow, but instead squeezed Cosima’s hand reassuringly. The effect was instantaneous.  “Delphine, can I walk you home?”

The question lacked irony, or chivalry, or playfulness, or pretense.  It was honest. Cosima had asked to walk Delphine home, and Delphine without pretense answered, “Oui, Cosima, it would be my pleasure.”

 

With reins in her left hand and Delphine’s fingers laced in her right, Cosima led them back toward town, trying intentionally to notice the smell of the sagebrush and the riverbank, the sound of the frogs and the crunch of the trail beneath their feet, the warmth of Delphine on her shoulder and the slow crawl of darkness overhead. 

 

She was determined to remember _this_ moment when she laid down in bed tonight, determined to begin forgetting her past to make room for a future.


	8. I Put My New Boots On

Delphine checked her appearance once more in the mirror; she helped her golden curls forward with a flick of her head, letting them hang loosely in front of her face catching just in front of the dark patches at the shoulder of the pearl buttoned cowboy shirt she had bought at Sears that day.

                 The store was a bit further off than she had wanted to wander, but the concierge assured her that for _authentic_ ranch wear, the department store would do much better than the tourist boutique on the strip.  She considered donning the Stetson she had bought on impulse. Having already committed to two pair of dungarees, three shirts and some two-tone boots (black embossed leather, with a grey, winged cap across the toe), adding the stiff, light brown hat to her purchases seemed like both and after thought and a commitment at the same time.

She had packed and prepared for downtown living; and though the terrain along the river had not proven too injurious to Delphine’s wardrobe, she certainly noticed a problem with her shoes. The earth here was in a near constant state of erosion.  The nightly breezes, conjured as the heat of the summer sun, which had baked into the landscape by day, rose off the valley floor and swirled with the cool mountain air rolling down from the Lake Tahoe, displaced layers of fine, chalky dust that passed for top soil to reveal an uneven substrate of fist sized rocks, protruding at various depths from the compacted ground beneath. The thin soles of Delphine’s canvas shoes had done little to mask or disperse the pressure that the rocks exerted upward onto her feet as she walked along the wild stretches of the river path. In fact, it was principally a capitulation to this unearthing that had caused her to pause in her westward wandering to listen to the river, babbling wisdom as it flowed past her.  Under the Aspen tree, she allowed her thoughts to meander with the rippling tide; she permitted herself to feel, to remember, with a vortex of tension swirling through her abdomen and winding her spine into tighter and tighter compression, the heat of her recent fantasies.

She flushed with an intense and tingling heat. It had been only a heartbeat since she had first permitted herself to succumb to the press of imagined lips and the brush of phantom fingers against her skin, yet she found that in the hours since, despite her efforts to focus on anything else, one idea kept returning to her.  _Cosima_.  That fierce dream, the shocking emergence of desire, was her near constant companion, urging her muscles and sinews into vibrating chords of longing, plucked by the rapidly accelerating beat of her own heart. 

It was a completely over whelming sensation and one she hadn’t felt since… well, in actuality she wasn’t sure she had ever felt it before, and though she could identify Cosima as the cause, she could not fathom a remedy that did not end with her complete unraveling.

She forced herself to inhale deeply, first in an attempt to still her body’s subcutaneous cacophony, and then to clear her head. She needed to regain control of herself, but how?  _Run,_ her mind commanded, _run_. She rose to her feet but stayed rooted to the spot, uncertain if she was supposed to be running toward something or away from it.

Her answer appeared from the west, silhouetted by the sun which had not quite yet begun to dip behind the ridgeline. As she shielded her eyes, trying to make out the lines that separated horse from rider, she knew, instinctively, that Cosima had come to find her. The tension constricting her core loosened as she watched from her secluded spot on the river bank. And as horse and rider made seemingly effortless flight over the fallen tree, she felt herself also ready to leap.

 

                  So she took Cosima’s hand when it was offered and walked with her and her enormous equine companion toward the Riverside; they traded observations about the color of the sky, the sounds of crickets, the whispering of the wind, and the smell of the sage that danced on it, which Cosima swore Delphine would never truly appreciate not having grown up around it.  “I swear to you,” she had offered, “the smell of sagebrush, especially sagebrush after a summer rain… God, it just… well it feels like coming home.”  Delphine smiled at that, she felt the same way about the smell of the ocean mingling with fresh baked bread.   

                  Cosima had tied Darwin to the hitching post behind the hotel and joined Delphine in her room for a cup of tea, before taking her leave.  And Delphine was overjoyed that, before she left, Cosima had invited her to dinner at the Double S the next night. “Mrs. S. is really keen to meet you. She told me to tell you that she knows more about being a woman in a man’s world that I do, so…..”

                  Delphine couldn’t help but giggle at that.  “Thank you, Cosima. I would like that very much.  C’est vrai, I am so curious about your family.”

                  “Whoa, no pressure though, right?!” Cosima teased, as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, “I’m not sure we are all that interesting.”

                  “Oh, I think you are more interesting than you know.” Delphine retorted, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest and kind smile stretched across her face.

                  “I guess it’s hard to see when you are living it.” Cosima mused, 

                  “I guess it must be.” Delphine cooed.

                  “Ummmm, I guess, good night then,” Cosima offered awkwardly as she sort of stretched her arms and stepped toward the blonde.

                  Delphine leaned forward, dropping her folded arms and wrapping them tentatively around Cosima’s waist, who reciprocally held Delphine around the shoulders and neck; their height differential creating a joint posture that pulled Cosima up past her full height.  She felt suspended in Delphine’s arms. They both lingered in their embrace longer than social convention required, and when Delphine felt Cosima inhale deeply, nose nestled in her hair, she allowed herself the same luxury.

                  When they released each other, they simply stood for a moment letting the intimacy of the moment dissolve naturally rather than ripping it in half with hasty departures.

“Good night, Cosima.” Delphine smiled.

“It was a very good night, Delphine,” she affirmed as she turned to leave.  Then she stopped abruptly and turned adding, “Oh, hey, Delphine.  I don’t suppose you brought any boots with you?”

Delphine glanced down at her canvas footwear and the blank look on her face was all the answer Cosima needed, so she added, “It’s okay. Just wear the one’s you have on.”

So, against Cosima’s assurances and informed by her own experience trail blazing the night before, Delphine was determined to dress for ranch life when she joined Cosima’s family for dinner that evening.

The minute hand had seemed to crawl around the clock face over the last hour, stretching the minutes across eons and inspiring fits of anxious pacing from the blonde. So when the phone rang as she tried one last time to force her blonde mane into the perfect appearance of effortless beauty, her tender nerve endings jolted trying to urge her back into a more conventional perception of temporal reality, but the shock held her still for a moment as the mind body connection struggled to reestablish its connection.  It wasn’t until the fifth ring that Delphine offered a timid, “Allo, oui.” into the mouthpiece of the receiver.

“Well, I guess I got the right room, unless there’s another gorgeous French divorcee in the building.” Cosima joked. “I’m in the lobby.  Should I come up or…”

“Chouette, I will be right down.” Delphine, who was grinning at the generous compliments of her friend, interjected.

“Solid,” Cosima returned. Delphine could hear her smiling over the phone line.  When the blonde emerged from the elevator, Cosima’s expressions morphed from anticipation, to recognition, to shock. Her mouth and eyes both flung open in appreciation.

“Whoa.” Cosima dropped the word in a dead pan before regaining some semblance of composure. Delphine made a striking figure when dressed in her street clothes; her height, lithe frame, and elegant features captured the attention of men and women in passing where ever she walked. Cosima had noticed the way their expressions would shift from casual regard to admiration (and sometimes longing). Their optic nerves sent impulses to their visual cortexes that then ricocheted to their brain stems; the most primal part of their brains compelling them to respond to beauty as an indicator of genetic perfection and, thereby, extraordinary desirability in mate selection.  But when Cosima saw Delphine’s form clad in the rugged attire of ranch hands and cowboys her mind practically imploded, almost unable to reconcile the duality of femininity and masculinity that was laid before her.

“Hi, you.” Cosima practically purred.

Delphine, who had been excited to show Cosima that she had been thinking of her, was also slightly unsteady, uncertain of how the gesture would be received. “How do you like me?” she asked, as she turned in a lazy circle, showing off the entirety of her western wear.

“I like you just fine, darlin’.” Cosima fell back into her bravado, but only for a moment. “What’s not to like?” she added sincerely, “How do you like yourself?”

“It feels a bit like a costume, I’m afraid.” Delphine acknowledged, “But I felt the same way the first time I put on a lab coat, so I am sure it is a temporary feeling.” she dismissed her own awkwardness and then made two confessions, “I really like these buttons!” she said, fingering the silver rimmed pearlescent circles, “and the boots are a little stiff.”

“You did not??!” Cosima’s incredulous question was more of statement. She had been so distracted by the Levi’s and shirt that she had completely failed to notice Delphine’s pointy-toed footwear. “Delphine Cormier, you are now officially wasted on the Riverside.  You are ready for the authentic Nevada experience!” she beamed at Delphine, still half in disbelief at the figure before her. “You look just perfect,” her admiration was clear, “Well almost perfect,” she added.

“Almost?” Delphine asked, wondering how she could possibly fall short in Cosima’s estimation.

“The only thing you are missing is the Stetson.” Cosima teased.

“It’s in my room;” Delphine answered matter-of-factly, “I didn’t know if it would be appropriate for dinner.”

Cosima’s delight exploded out of her, “Shut up, Delphine! You bought a hat?  Shut up!!!” She practically jumped as she bounced enthusiastically in front of the blonde.

“Oui.” Delphine giggled, uncertain what she had done to thrill Cosima so thoroughly, but grateful she had done whatever it was. ‘Should I go get it?”

“No, no, no,” Cosima assured her, still laughing appreciatively, a wide grin across her face, “I’m not sure I’m ready for that!” she held one hand over her heart. Delphine blushed at the comment, wondering if Cosima had meant to imply something beyond aesthetic appreciation. “C’mon. Let’s go. I want you to have a chance to visit with Lucy before we eat.”

“Lead the way.” Delphine acquiesced, and Cosima led her to the car.

 

                  Delphine had never been on a ranch; her experiences with horses were slightly more upper crust. She was accustomed to estate stables, where the daily care for animals was the responsibility of stable hands, where horses appeared saddled and ready to ride, where horses disappeared after a hard work out to be cooled and groomed by the staff. 

The gate that marked the entry to the Double S was unremarkable, two deep set wooden poles that reached to a height of about eight feet stood on either side of the dirt road, an iron arch spanned the gap; at its center was welded an iron symbol about a foot in height that resembled a heart with octopus legs; it took Delphine a moment to register it as a perfect block script “S” mirrored on itself. The ranch house as well as the barn, stables, corrals, round pen and tack shed were all set back about a quarter of a mile from the main road. Delphine could see evidence of frequent riding across the open expanse of land that lay to the left and right as the approached the house.  Worn trails wove between the ample sagebrush, seas of green scrub and the occasional boulder; she wondered out loud, because she truly didn’t know, about the nature of tumbleweeds.

Cosima brought the car to a stop. “Well, Miss, you are looking at a whole bunch of it.”

“Vraiment? Show me.” she requested, opening the car door and stepping out.

“Well, you see the sagebrush right?” Cosima asked, approaching from around the back-side of the Chevy.

Delphine recognized the short twisted wooden trunks and branches supporting sprays of grey green leaves; Cosima had explained that they would explode into vibrant sprays of yellow flowers by summer’s end, and though Delphine lamented that she might not remain long enough to see them, she hadn’t shared that information with Cosima. She wasn’t sure why, but it had something to do with beginnings and endings and savoring moments while she could.

“Oui.” Delphine replied.

“Well, you see the green growing all around it? That is _Salsola Pestifer_ , or Russian Thistle. It is the most common tumbleweed we get around here.  And, now I am no botanist, but I do know that you will find this next bit interesting since you deal with anomalies a reproductive sort.” Cosima flashed her cheesiest grin as she wagged her eyebrows over the last words of her sentence.

“Mon dieu.”  Delphine laughed, “The thistles are reproductively anomalous?”

‘Well, kind of.  Tumbleweeds are a very misunderstood category of plants. Most people assume the plant dies, get torn out of the ground and blows away; this is not true.” Cosima shared.

“It’s not?” Delphine added, out of camaraderie more than inquiry. 

“No!” Cosima added, amused by Delphine’s playful participation.  “The body of the plant intentionally detaches from the root system so that it can disperse it seeds as the wind blows it around.  Each one of the these green monsters will turn into another hundred next spring. It’s actually a pretty aggressive and annoying plant. Hey, that’s probably why it’s called _Pestifer_!” Cosima exclaimed proudly.

Delphine laughed heartily.  “Oui, vraiment, Cosima.  But can you not control it?”

“Actually we intentionally harvest about 2/3 of this when it blossoms in July.” Cosima offered. Delphine was fascinated, the crease in the center of her brow begging for elaboration. “If it is cut when in flower it can be hayed for winter.  Siobhan likes to be as self-reliant as possible, so we leave enough to regrow the supply next spring. Well I shouldn’t say we. She hires that job out to day laborers passing through.”

“Hey you! Get up here! Stop hogging that sweet young thing for yourself!” a voice split the air and Cosima’s smile split wide across her face, a heat gathering across its surface. 

She turned toward the house and shouted back in the direction of the jibe, “In your dreams buddy.” Turning to Delphine, she explained. “That’s my other brother Paul; Donnie was pretty effusive in his praise of your beauty I’m afraid,” Cosima apologized then stumbled, “Not that it isn’t totally warranted… because it, like, totally is… For sure.”

Delphine blushed now. “How about I agree to take it as a compliment and we leave it at that?”

“Good plan; and thank you.” Cosima affirmed, “I promise they are actually way more evolved than they seem at first.”

“I can’t wait to get to know them better.” Delphine comforted her, as she slipped back in to the car. “Shall we?”

“Definitely,” Cosima nodded as she, too, retook her place in the driver’s seat, released the brake and drove the rest of the way up to the ranch house.  Delphine saw people gathering on the wrap-around porch.  She recognized Donnie immediately from the slight bulk of his mid section, and she assumed that the other, thinner man next to him must be Paul. There was a woman clad in an outfit quite similar to her own, but it had clearly seen years of hard work. Thread bare knees and frayed hems accented the relaxed fit of her jeans; the sleeves of her red calico shirt were rolled up her forearms to just below her elbows, and her red boots, scuffed and dull, gave the illusion that the ensemble had been intentionally arranged. Her long brown hair hung over her left shoulder in a thick, braided rope.  If Delphine had not previously understood that Cosima was not Siobhan Sadler’s biological child, she’d have never suspected. They were so alike.

Cosima cut the engine and turned to Delphine, “sit tight for a second.” Delphine nodded, trusting.  Cosima exited the vehicle and jogged around to Delphine’s door, opening it and offering her hand to the blonde, who accepted it naturally.

When they reached the stoop, Cosima made to introduce everyone. “Delphine Cormier, this is my family.  Family, this is Delphine Cormier. “ 

It was Siobhan who made up for Cosima’s cavalier effort.  “I know you’ve met Donnie, Delphine.” She offered her hand, “I’m Siobhan; Cosima’s guardian.” Delphine was surprised by Siobhan’s choice of words.

“Mother. “ Cosima interjected. “I mean it was never made official, but yeah… this is my mother.”

“Thank you kitten.” Siobahn said, as Delphine took the older woman’s hand and answered.

“Enchantée.”

“And this is my youngest boy, Paul.” Siobhan motioned to the thin man, whose hat obscured what appeared to be some rather chiseled features.

“Howdy, Miss.  Cormier. Nice to meetcha.” He tipped his hat, but did not remove it. He turned to Donnie and whispered loudly and obviously for the benefit of the group, “You were not lyin’ Gordo; she is a looker. Ooooweeee.”

“Paul,” Siobhan cautioned, “don’t you make our guest or your sister uncomfortable!”

“It’s okay, “ Delphine dismissed, smiling appreciatively.  “It seems all of your children have a gift for flattery, Mrs. Sadler.” And then she turned pointedly to look at Cosima.

“Mama, always told us, ‘You catch more flies with honey’ ain’t that right?” Donnie joked.

“That’s right!” Paul agreed, and then sang, “Cosima’s a walking talking piece of honey comb.”

“Keep it up Delgadita!” Cosima emasculated Paul in as loving a way as she could think.

“That’s enough Jimmie Rogers,” Siobhan warned. “You and Donnie go freshen the cattle troughs on the east fence, and scrub them down; I noticed some slime around the edges yesterday.  Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

“Yes ma’am,” they answered in unison.

They stepped down from the porch and walked toward to the cattle fencing, and once they saw that their mother had gone inside they continued to sing, obnoxiously and pointedly. “And the Lord says now that I made a bird/ I'm gonna look all round for a little ol' word.”

Delphine was beginning to feel like Cosima’s family was making fun of her, but it didn’t feel malicious. She dismissed the feeling, presuming that they must share many rituals and inside jokes.  And she would come to understand them in time.

“That sounds about sweet like "turtledove"/And I guess I'm gonna call it ‘love’.” The lyrics came thundering at them in dischordant, but delighted whoops.

“Guys!” Cosima bellowed back, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with them.  She knew they were, in their own way, protecting her.  By being open and accepting of whatever was happening, they were letting her know she wasn’t going to deal with it alone. She did worry that Delphine might be very confused. “Ignore them. They like to impress people with their innuendos.”

Delphine smiled, “So nothing at all like their sister?” she teased, smiling shyly.  She wanted to grab Cosima’s hand again, but wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome after the good-natured ridicule she had endured at the hands of her brothers.

“So, do you want to go meet Lucy?”

“She is your pregnant friend right? She did not come out with everyone else? I know you said her pregnancy had been difficult. Is she resting?” Delphine showed an abundance of concern for this stranger, as she remembered how anxious Cosima had been to know about her condition.

“She is resting, yes.” Cosima shared. “Let’s go visit her; c’mon.” but instead of walking toward the house, Cosima made off in the direction of the barn. Delphine jogged to catch up, kicking some dust up around their ankles.

“Where are we going, chérie? Is there a guest house?” Delphine inquired.

“Yep, there is. But it’s back on the east edge of the property. We are heading to the barn.” And within 15 paces they stood in front of the classic red structure, the hayloft door at the top of the barn was open but the large side door was shut. Cosima grabbed the handle and heaved, rolling it to the side.  Comprehension was dawning for the French woman as Cosima lead her to small rectangular pen at the far corner of the barn. It was occupied by an enormous Holstein cow; her distinctive black and white markings leaving Delphine in know doubt that this was a classic dairy cow.

“Delphine, this is Lucy. My heifer.” Cosima beamed.

“She’s yours?” Delphine’s tone was surprised as she smiled at the creature standing calmly in the pen.  Her midsection was enormous, making her appear incredibly thick. So much so in fact that Delphine wondered if she might be wider than she was tall. The massive creatures ears flicked but she simply stared at Delphine with her impossibly human eyes and her incredible feathery eye lashes.  Delphine wanted to get closer. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to move closer.

“Yeah, of course. Just move slowly. She’ll be extra cautious because she’s so close to giving birth.”

Delphine stepped into the pen. “Tell me about her.”

“Well, she is sort of spoiled because when she was a calf she got separated from her mother and lost out on the open range. Mabel was fit to be tied; her mother. She just lowed and lowed. To this day it was the saddest sound I had ever heard, and it drove Donnie mad with worry. He can’t stand to see or hear a creature in pain, s he went out looking for Lucy. When he found her, she was down and couldn’t get back up.  Her gut had twisted, which is super rare for a young calf, and Donnie tuned her one her back to try to rock it back into place, but it was no use.”

“What happened?” "Well he didn’t want to leave her, so he gave Lucky a slap on the haunches and sent him home. He knew Lucky would get some help, but before Lucky could get to us, a storm started to roll in, and Donnie just scooped her up, all 130 pounds of her, and started walking.”

“Non, Cosima.” Delphine jaw was slack. As she had been listening, Lucy allowed Delphine to stand on her left shoulder and wrap her arm up around the cow’s neck; she scratched the ear that flicked intermittently. “He carried her home in a rain storm?  It is almost unbelievable.”

“Well, you can believe it.  Both man and beast took pretty ill. Siobhan nursed Donnie back to health, and I,” she stepped through the railing and approached the ladies in the middle of the pen, “took care of Lucy here. I guess you could say we bonded; we don’t even have to cut her anymore.  She’ll just follow me wherever we need her to go.”

Delphine’s crease reappeared and she asked, “What does that mean, ‘cut her’? It sounds cruel.”

Cosima laughed, “I guess it does. But I promise its not. Cutting is when a rider uses a horse to contain and remove one cow from the herd.  They don’t like to leave the group, but Lucy took a shine to me and has sort of followed me around like a puppy ever since.” Delphine nodded her head in recognition at that comment. It seemed she and Lucy had had very similar reactions to the brunette.

“Of course she did; she’s an intelligent animal.” Delphine flirted.

“I guess I just have that effect on people,” Cosima boasted playfully.

“It would seem so,” Delphine echoed back. But then a thought wormed its way into her brain. A thought she had been having for a couple of days. She found the conversation left room for exploration, so she asked, “Does that happen a lot? Lost creatures getting attached to you.” She was not proud of her phrasing, as it wasn’t particularly kind.

Cosima felt the strain in Delphine’s question.

“I’m not sure I understand.” She replied as neutrally as she could.

Delphine scrambled to find a context outside of her own insecurity in which she might frame her question. “Oh, I just mean, women going through traumatic transitions, through classic transference, see you as, je ne sais pas, an object of affection, or….” she hesitated but then, against her better judgment, finished, “attraction.”

The bottom fell out of Cosima’s stomach. She could not believe that Delphine was being so forward, and in the middle of her dairy cow’s birthing pen. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, “this is a little too surreal for me. Can we either stop talking about this, or at least move out of this pen and go sit somewhere? Please?”

Delphine, who wasn’t sure she didn’t regret initiating the conversation, considered taking the out and dropping the question, but she realized that she desperately wanted to know the answer. So she grabbed Cosima’s hand and led her away form the pen and toward some hay bails across the barn. ‘Will this do?” She asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Cosima responded, her chest shook with anxiety. Her throat constricted.   
“What was it you wanted to know, again?” Cosima maintained the out for Delphine.

“I want to know Cosima, if any of your dudes has ever wanted to take you as a lover?” Delphine had this disarming ability to be straight-forward. She had done it on the train the first night they spoke, when she had announced her itinerary and left the room. What most people would balk at, or embarrass themselves grasping for phrasing to express, Delphine simply said, with alarming courage and honesty.

“Well, um, my goodness Delphine: that is a question.” Cosima fumbled, “it’s ummm, wooo.” She exhaled gibberish syllables and fidgeted; Delphine remained stone still.

“Cosima,” Delphine commanded gently. “Talk to me; I am not here to hurt you. I care for you.”

Cosima felt suddenly raw, and so exposed. She looked into Delphine’s eyes and saw sincerity, clarity, and compassion. She wanted to answer, but words were failing her.  Tears were welling up in her eyes; she was wilting.

Delphine witnessed the paralysis that gripped Cosima; she could see the quaking, tremors wracking her tense body in an irregular rhythm; Cosima was vibrating with worry, and she felt sorry to have been the cause of pain. And she said so out loud.

Cosima’s voice shook, as she answered, “It’s not you, Delphine. You didn’t do anything wrong; it’s just….. I just…,” Cosima struggled to complete any thought at all.

 Delphine, witnessing the dramatic effects of the tug of war between Cosima’s mind and heart, felt a tremendous urge to comfort the other woman, to make her feel safe, so she reached out her hand and moved an errant strand of hair behind Cosima’s ear. Cosima looked at her, eyes pleading for release from something Delphine couldn’t know, from an injury that Delphine hadn’t caused. So Delphine did the only think she could think to do.  She ran her hand gently through Cosima’s hair to the back of her neck and then pulled her into a gentle kiss.


	9. Take Me to Church

 When Delphine pulled Cosima’s lips to her own, it was an act of pure emotion, an impulse. Having seen the fear behind the brunette’s trembling eyes, her need to tip the scales, to lead by example, to show Cosima that she was safe, had led her to the rashest act of her adult life.  Delphine, who had generally lived according to plans, allowed herself to tumble head long into spontaneity. 

 

Not that impulsivity was _entirely_ new for the suddenly emboldened blonde, but it was a more recent addition to her behavioral repertoire. Since reading her Grand-mère’s letter, she had gradually become less measured, less cautious, and more comfortable acting on instinct.

 

 It was instinct, after all, that led Delphine, after he had made a particularly dismissive remark about her “pervy research,” to throw her martini in Phillip’s face and announced in front of their dinner guests that he could “go fuck himself.” And it was instinct, when months beforehand, she dared to apply for a graduate fellowship at UC Berkeley.  Instinct had also led her to Felix Dawkins for counsel and to Sears that very morning for the chance to wrap herself in an idea and flirt with possibility. To some degree, it felt like instinct that drove her, now, to claim Cosima’s fear, and, with the gentle pressure of her mouth, dissolve it into dust. 

 

In the natural world, instinct serves the ends of survival. It carries adaptive and evolutionary functionality; in choosing fight or flight and to feed her own soul, Delphine had instinctively prepared herself to thrive rather than simply to survive. After the martini, the acceptance letter, and the Stetson, Delphine had felt like she was moving toward something; taking intentional steps in the direction of happiness. In each case, she could visualize an outcome, or at least conjure a vague idea of what might come next.

 

In _this_ moment, however, seated on a hay bail in a pearl buttoned shirt with her fingers slid through chestnut silk and her entire life force gathered into a fine point where her lips met Cosima’s, her consciousness threatened to shoot out the tip of her tongue if she could not…. _taste_.  She was completely lost.

 

This act, this kiss, this claiming had been, rather than instinct, a compulsion.  Compulsion, which defies reason and will, serves maladaptive ends and can lead one quickly down a satisfying, but certain, path to ruin. Addicts, abusers and philanderers, to weak to resist the draw of dopamine, actively seek the release of the brain’s pleasure center, abandoning propriety for pleasure and discretion for destruction.  

 

Delphine, having no recollection of choosing this kiss or what might happen when it ended, had allowed herself to slide down a rabbit hole and wondered if there was any path back to the surface.

           

“Delphine,” Cosima breathed, the two restrained syllables barely audible as she pushed against the blonde’s shoulders, breaking their connection. The fear in her eyes had dissipated; Delphine could see that immediately.  It had released its hold, but in its place was something else, disbelief, and behind that, deeper still, curiosity: a question reflected out from the depths of Cosima’s eyes, from fields of shimmering onyx that reminded Delphine of starlight and gossamer.

 

Struck, suddenly, by the implications of her actions, Delphine’s eyes flung open wide and her hand flew from its tangle in Cosima’s tresses to cover her mouth. “Cosima,” she stammered, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.  I just…” she practically jumped to her feet, walking at a clip away from Cosima and back toward the birthing pen. She turned into the expanse between them, feeling much further away from Cosima than the few meters that actually separated them.   “I’ve never, ummmm, before. I mean, I have, certainly, but just not… with a woman.” Her hands anchored themselves in her blonde locks. “Merde.” She growled toward the rafters, castigation and self-doubt imbuing her words, her demeanor, and, most unsettling to Cosima, her usually placid features.

 

Delphine tried to pace, but, in her agitation, all she managed was a series of sporadic stomps and changes in direction. How could she have been so weak? So thoughtless? Cosima had shown her every kindness, and she returned it by being forward, prurient and, now, lecherous. Shame burned her features. “I’m so sorry.” she offered, realization dawning that she had likely impaired their friendship, “I should go. If it would not be an imposition, could I use your mother’s phone to call a taxi?” She was resolved to re-gather her strength and not implicate Cosima in her longing. 

 

Her mind reeled, trying to locate the exact moment or memory, the word or action that had allowed her to believe her advances would be welcomed.  She scanned the stolen moments of heat; how she had allowed herself to feel in response to Cosima’s banter and companionship, to their brief moments of physical contact, but she could find nothing sturdy enough upon which to hang her hope. It must surely be another phantom of her imagining.

 

She cast one final glance at Cosima, who had risen and begun to approach her, unable to fathom standing near the woman again with out wanting, Delphine began her retreat toward the large barn door.  “Excuse me, Cosima.”

 

Epinephrine. Norepinephrine. Cosima had felt them flood her already over stimulated brain when Delphine had pulled their lips together.  She was caught between parasympathetic commands; the cadence of each heartbeat echoing the conflict: _fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight._ Gripped by indecision, Cosima succumbed to paralysis; she froze, neither inviting nor rebuffing the blonde’s advance. Her hyperactive limbic system was slamming her pre-frontal cortex against the front of her skull, and jumping up and down on her pericardium, squeezing her heart at erratic intervals.

 

She wanted this; she knew she did; she had decided just the night before to allow Delphine to happen to her.  But she was happening so fast.  Too fast. Cosima had yet to out run the memories of her past or shed the burdens of regret.  She hadn’t had enough time to consider contentment, a life not haunted by remembering, a life where she might kiss Delphine absent the spectre of _Emily,_ whose image hung behind her lidded eyes even as Delphine…

Delphine, who had been so earnest and brave in her declarations and questions, deserved earnestness and bravery in return.  She deserved more than awkward and distracted embraces. She deserved veracity of feeling.

Cosima knew that emotions were inherently chemical; press the right cerebral lever to trigger a lymbic response. She, herself, had become quite adept at expediting those processes in women over the years, rushes of blood and endorphins summoning “love,” but her long game was weak, practically non-existent. She had spent so long manufacturing attraction, that she had lost a feel for sincerity. 

 

Spurred to urgency by the idea of the blonde walking away from her, Cosima’s dumbstruck heart managed to forge an assurance. For the first time since the word “lover” had fallen from Delphine’s lips, Cosima thoughts found voice; she reached out, laying a gentle hand on the blonde’s tense shoulder. “Hey, Delphine, it’s okay,” she whispered. The words (or was it the whisper?) caught Delphine by the heart strings and forced her to look in Cosima’s direction her eyes now completely sincere, if lacking slightly in depth. A request followed her first utterance, “I’d like you to stay.”  Cosima grabbed Delphine’s hands so they were standing face to face. “We need to talk. Please. Stay.” Delphine felt exposed; she wasn’t sure she was ready, or would even know how to answer the million questions Cosima must have about her. “I think you are entitled to know what this is really about.”

 

“OK,” Delphine was taken aback, and secretly relieved, to have the attention removed from her own forward behavior and the intensely confusing thoughts and feelings that seemed to be driving her to recklessness.

 

“Would you mind if we walk together?” Cosima asked, she knew her nerves would require a physical outlet and it was still 15 minutes before dinner would be ready.  “We can follow the drive back down to the main road. If that’s alright.”

 

“Oui.” The blonde agreed.

 

“Thanks. I’m a little nervous and I just, well… yeah. Let’s walk.” She motioned for the blonde set the pace. Delphine ambled away, releasing her own hands from Cosima’s and joining them behind her back.  The shorter woman took a quick double step to fall into stride beside her.

 

“So,” Cosima said, “I want to tell you something, and I am really hoping that it doesn’t upset you, or change your mind about being here.”

 

The bottom of Delphine’s stomach fell out; she braced herself for rejection, crossing her arms in front of her chest, guarding her heart as they walked on.  Acutely aware that she had stretched the limits of Cosima’s interest in her, she wanted to cry. But in an effort to keep Cosima engaged with her, she painted a half grin onto her face and tried to brighten her eyes by opening them a little wider, “I’m listening.” Her _enthusiasm_ pushed the limits of credibility.

 

“Have you ever heard of the _marone noho_?” Cosima asked, her tone indicating that she was expecting a “no.” Her heels kicking through the road dust just enough to betray her apprehension

 

“Non,” Delphine offered, curiosity obvious from the question in her word.

 

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would have. Ummm,” she grappled for another approach, “How about two spirit people?” Cosima tried again.

 

‘I’m sorry Cosima; I am not familiar with that term either.”  Delphine apologized, the vertical line creasing her brow. She had thought they were talking about a kiss. Did Cosima really wish to discuss the soul? She rocked a pivoted a bit in time with her gait, “Is it to do with religion?”

 

Cosima clarified, her hands making oaths in front of her body, “It’s not a non-sequitur, I promise; it’s totally relevant.” Delphine softened at Cosima’s cryptic, yet sincere, assurance.   “You asked me a question back there, and I want to answer, but I don’t want to be a condescending asshole either.”

 

“Merci,” Delphine answered with playful appreciation, though she was suddenly nervous about the topic of conversation. “I would not like you as an asshole, I think.” She shook her head at her own weakness; had she really fallen back into flirting so easily? Cosima needed her to be present in this moment, not wandering off into fantasies to stoke her own fires.

 

Cosima stopped in her tracks and turned to Delphine.

 

“Are we done walking, chérie?” Delphine inquired. Rather than answer her directly, Cosima took a few strides over toward a large rock and sat upon it, motioning for Delphine, who willingly obliged, to join her.

 

Cosima leaned forward, elbows on her knees and fingers tented and spread apart.  She took a deep breath, and Delphine could not help reaching out to rub her back.  The gesture made Cosima chuckle, not a little bit ironically, and the blonde began to recognize that perhaps her friend was in more distress than even she had been ten minutes previously.  “Cosima, you can talk to me.” They were right back to where they had been before the kiss. It was almost comforting to have reset the clock as it were.

 

“Delphine, you asked me… to be honest, I have wanted to… to trust you,  and I... there have been women who…. shit” Cosima stuttered over every thought, making valiant runs at the truth but balking as she approached it. “I’m so sorry. God, I promise I am trying.” She cradled her head in her hands.

 

Delphine removed her hand from Cosima’s back and used it to raise her chin, “Maybe I can help. Can I try?” Cosima nodded. Delphine looked into Cosima’s eyes, gentleness pouring out of her own. “Cosima, are you trying to talk to me about your lovers?”

 

“God, how do you do that?” Delphine’s words had ripped a crevasse through Cosima’s being, making her feel unbearably light; she was surprised her two halves were not drifting up and away from the rock they shared. ‘How do you….? Yes. Yes, I want to talk to you about… that.”

 

“About your lovers.” Delphine repeated, gently. “You can say the word, Cosima.”

 

“Can I?” Cosima’s heart hammered against her ribs. “I’m not sure at all right now.”

 

“Of course,” Delphine stroked her cheek. “Just take a breath and say it. We can say it together, if you would prefer.” Cosima nodded and inhaled deeply through her nose, her chest expanded stitching her two halves back together.

 

Delphine also inhaled, ‘Ready?” she asked. Cosima closed her eyes and surprised the blonde when she spoke without assistance.

 

She spoke the words in a fluid line, “Delphine, I want to talk to you about my lovers.” A massive wave of nausea had pushed the words out, but subsided when the ground failed to split open and suck her out of existence, when Delphine had the audacity to remain by her side, and when the plague of locust failed to descend from the heavens. Delphine smiled at her.

 

“I’m listening, Cosima” she spoke Cosima’s name with an affection that was palpable.

 

“You asked me if any of the women I work with had ever taken me to bed, and the answer to that question is _no._ “ Cosima spoke to the earth, too anxious to even try to connect with Delphine, who could feel the nerves radiating off of the brunette. The blonde was dumb struck. She had not suspected that this amazing, intelligent, charming girl, could ever be so vulnerable, might be so delicate.  She suddenly felt very protective of Cosima.

 

“I’m listening,” Delphine assured her again.

 

“Delphine, I am _marone noho;_ I have two spirits.” Cosima felt the silence as an invitation to continue. “Delphine, I’m not like most women; I’m not like you. I want things that most women don’t.”

 

“And what am I like, Cosima? Tell me.” the blonde entreated, sincerely. “I would like to know what you see when you look at me.”

 

“What I see. God, Delphine, you’re amazing. You are _everything_. You’re just … brave; you came here, to Reno, alone, to start a new life… which is just so, daring. And by the way, what went wrong with your husband? And look at you! I mean my God, you are so gorgeous.” Delphine blushed; she was torn between wanting to slow Cosima down, and listening to details of the her admiration. She wondered if she might ever get another chance to hear those words, so she let Cosima speak uninterrupted. “And you are so open, you bought those clothes, that shirt with pearl buttons you can’t stop touching, but you are also… Delphine, you’re normal.” These words were not what Delphine wanted to hear. “You have a husband; you wanted a husband. I never have. I have always wanted… something else.” Cosima still could not look directly at Delphine, but she did caution a sideways glance and recognized acceptance emanating from hazel eyes.

 

“And what is that, chérie? What have you wanted?” Delphine pushed a little, even through her own discomfort. She insisted on the truth.

 

            Cosima, having begun unburdening herself, could not seem to stop talking, “Love.” she stated matter-of-factly. “Love, Delphine. I have always wanted love. “ And as she claimed it, claimed love for her own, her confidence grew. Her posture straightened, and she smiled. “Love. I have always wanted love and I have always believed I could not have it.” Cosima, practically jubilant at the odd confession, leapt up from the spot; Delphine followed close behind.

 

Cosima’s emotion was contagious, Delphine’s heart swelled with sympathetic joy, and her eyes brimmed with tears.  “So how, chérie, how are you so very different from me?” Delphine pressed.

 

            Cosima’s volume had risen as her fear had diminished; she stood up and paced, a manic energy propelling her, “Because I don’t want a husband Delphine; I want, I have always wanted,”  she turned to look at Delphine, noticing her newly damp cheeks and practically sighed her admission, “a wife….. God that felt good! Hot damn. I want a wife! Delphine,” She grabbed the blonde’s upper arms and spoke directly to Delphine’s heart, “I want a wife. I want love and I want to get it from my wife.” Cosima, elated, released Delphine, but her mind was caught in such a melee of endorphins and neuro-transmitters that she began to list to the left; she brought her hand up to her forehead, “Oh god, this is intense. I need to sit back down.”

 

            Delphine, amused and uncertain, guided Cosima back to a seated position. They sat together taking some deep breaths and leaning forward head in hands, before trying to continue.

 

            “So Cosima, it would seem we are not very different after all.” Delphine did not elaborate. She was so overwhelmed by her regard and overwhelming concern for Cosima that her own impulses seemed a tertiary concern. “We both need love. The fact that you desire it from women is not unnatural, if Kinsey, and even Freud, are to be believed. It is simply uncommon.”

 

            “Anomalous.” Cosima ventured chuckling, remembering how their first encounter had hinged on a misinterpretation of incongruent data.

 

            “Oui. And you know how I feel about anomalies.” Delphine clearly remembered too, if her smile and open flirtation was any indication.

 

 

Cosima’s body language and expression suddenly changed. “But, see, that’s it Delphine; you can’t do that. That’s what they all do. That’s what _she_ did.  I know it’s not fair of me to put this on you, because I know I did it, or do it, or whatever, but you can’t flirt with me, not like that. I know I started it. I always do, but the thing is… I want so badly for you to mean it, and I know that you aren’t like me. Not really, and I let someone, once, be that to me and she wasn’t like me either, and  she left me. And I’m not strong enough to do that again.”

 

Delphine had listened intently, Cosima, so guarded a few moments before had let the floodgates open and a torrent of hidden truths and fears poured out.  She understood that Cosima wanted her; she understood that Cosima would not believe that Delphine wanted her in return.  Delphine understood that she wanted to be wanted by Cosima, but were Cosima’s fears legitimate?  Was Delphine just passing through a life that Cosima lived in every day? She could not find a truthful answer in her person.  She knew Cosima excited her mind, and, she had come to the shocked realization, her body as well. But was it novelty? Was it taboo? Was it love?  If it was not, could it be? She knew it would be easy to become addicted to the way Cosima made her feel when she was trying, but how might Cosima make her feel when she wasn’t.

 

Until she was certain of the answer, she had to respect Cosima’s request.  She refused to be the source of pain to one she cared for so deeply.

 

“Alright, Cosima. If that is what you want.” Delphine reluctantly agreed.

 

“Ha,’ Cosima practically shouted, “what I want is…” she thought better of finishing the thought, and instead looked at her watch. “you know what I want?” Cosima was stalling.

 

Delphine didn’t let on that she knew. “Tell me.”

 

Cosima locked away her errant emotions and frivolous romantic imaginings; she spoke with all of the sincerity of a child who has agreed that  her punishment is fair. “I want you” Delphine wished she would have stopped there; she longed for that to be the end of the sentence, even if she was resolved not to act on the knowledge, “in my life for the next six weeks; I want to be your friend and have some fun and talk about basal ganglia and chromosomes and go to the movies or a concert or what ever occurs to us. That is what I want Delphine. Can we do that?” Cosima asked, strength of will masking the larger truth, the truth that Cosima had already locked away and that Delphine desperately hoped to set free.

 

The truth that everything Cosima had just said was a lie.


	10. Concordia Discors

Siobhan Sadler’s old rectangular dinner table was supported at the corners by plain, functional, hand-turned legs.   The three wide planks of oak that formed the tabletop had been dove tailed together expertly and the dark patina on the wood had all but hidden the joints.  It was a sturdy table, a modest table and made no pretense about being other than what it was; a few shallow rings at the center and bottom of each leg felt less decorative and more like an abandoned capitulation to _style_. Delphine smiled as she looked around the family house, which was attached to, but largely separate from, the guesthouse, noticing that all of the furnishing evidenced a similar confident humility.

 

                  She was unsure why but she had expected hyperbole in the décor; cowhide chairs, longhorns mounted above doorways, a wagon wheel coffee table at least, but a simple low profile couch sat on one long side of a coffee table, which was a set piece with the one in the dining area. Two chairs sat akimbo to the ends of the coffee table; their upholstered seats matching the couch; their backs and arms formed by unembellished spindle wood.  A cylindrical vase of clear galss sat in the center of the table; wildflowers drew the outdoors in. The end table held a pot-bellied lamp whose flat beige shade diffused its soft warm light.

 

                  The walls were covered in framed snap shots. In some of them Delphine could recognize  her hostess or the three siblings through the ages, but there were other characters, who seemed to belong, but whom she had not met.  A tall man wearing an apron appeared in two of the pictures, and upon studying, Delphine noticed that he was apron-less in three others. She also noticed a picture of Cosima’s mother, bundled up against a chill, leaning against the corral fence and kissing a tall man with dark features; her hands pulled him to her by the lapels of his barn jacket.  The image felt like love and inspired in the blonde melancholy and hope simultaneously. She enjoyed looking at the photos, especially the ones of Cosima.  Her favorite, and the one in front of which she had paused to ruminate, showed Cosima atop Darwin, the horse’s posture contorted in a way Delphine had never seen; his front feet were spread out far to the sides as it seemed a cow was about to barrel into his chest. Cosima, tall and calm in the saddle, looked down; her body implied that it was about the break to the right.

 

                  ‘That’s my favorite, too.” the voice coming over her left shoulder made her start slightly.  IT was Siobhan come to visit with her as Cosima and her brothers finished setting the table. “You can see what she’s thinking.”

 

                  “She’s going to move right.” Delphine stated immediately, as though it was the obvious answer to a question that hadn’t been asked.  Siobhan’s eye lit at the comment.

 

“Mmmmmmm.” The older woman nodded appreciatively. “You should see them in person; Cosima and that horse….” her voice trailed off, savoring a memory for which words could do no justice, things she wasn’t saying revealing the deep affection Mrs. S felt for her daughter, “Quite a sight, the two of them.”

 

                  “I would like to see that, very much.” Delphine stated, simply. Sincerely.

 

                  “I’m sure that can be arranged.” The older woman whispered, nudging Delphine’s shoulder with her own. Delphine smiled broadly at the casual gesture; the tiniest of laughs rolled through her chest.

 

                  Remembering Cosima’s reserve, Delphine added, “If Cosima wishes to share with me.” Delphine’s smile tightened then; Siobhan noticed.

 

                  “You care for my daughter.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

                  “I do,” Delphine’s answer came without hesitation. She wondered if they were talking about the same sort of care, the kind Delphine could never have intended but felt nonetheless.

 

                  “It’s written all over your face, kitten,” Mrs. S put an arm around Delphine’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze,  “and I’m happy for you both.”

 

Delphine wanted to protest, but she could not manufacture an objection in the face of such sincerity, even if Cosima might have wanted her too. Nothing in Siobhan Sadler’s home brooked pretense.

 

“You two done havin’ your kumbaya over there?” Cosima interrupted, “Dinner’s on the table!” Both women smiled in the direction of the table and broke from their postures toward the table.

 

Dinner was a whirlwind of stories, laughter and questions. Delphine, through relentless inquiry, discovered that Siobhan had bought the Double S thirty years earlier, from the bank. The previous owner had lost everything in a rather protracted descent into gambling addiction, so she took what she had saved working double shifts as a maid at the Riverside and moonlighting as a dealer at Harrah’s and sunk it into a dream of self sufficiency.  She had learned fast about ranching, getting a break neck education from the hands, who were grateful not only to have employment, but also to find that their new boss had no aversion to hard work and never asked more of them than she was willing to do herself.

 

Paul and Donnie had grown up idolizing the ranch hands and had never considered leaving. Cosima loved the ranch, the animals, and was obviously deeply connected to her family, and they supported her desire to study neurobiology. Cosima had ambitions of being the first female professor at the University of Nevada when she finished graduate school, hoping that pursuing her dreams would not preclude her from settling close to home.

 

“They’d be idiots not to create an entire department just for you, sis!” Paul said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.  “I’m so proud of you!” 

 

“Thanks P.” she almost blushed under his affectionate gaze. Delphine was enamored with this family. Not a blood relation at the table, though technically Paul was distantly related to Siobhan and had come to her as an infant after his parents were killed in a car accident, and yet there was more genuine sense of belonging here than she had ever felt in her biological family.

 

The pause in Delphine’s inquiries opened the door for Siobhan. “Tell us about you, Delphine. Please, we’d love to know you better.”

 

Cosima interjected, “S, it’s none of our business.  You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to Delphine.” Cosima assured her.

 

“Merci, Cosima,” Delphine was grateful for the thought, but dismissed it. “It’s OK.  What would you like to know?”

 

It was Donnie who spoke, “Anything you feel comfortable telling us. What do you do for fun? What do you study? What brought you to Reno?” he added ironically

 

The table chuckled, and Delphine engaged in a spirit of levity. “Well, I think we all know what brought me to Reno…” she offered in a faux whisper, pausing intentionally, “a train.” And though she cherished the laughter her wit had inspired, she followed up with a more sincere confession, “Non, obviously I am here to get a divorce; when we were engaged my husband celebrated my studies; he even seemed interested occasionally in my work with genetic disorders and syndromes. I was surprised to find as the wedding drew closer that it seemed he did not expect me to continue in lieu of becoming his wife.”

 

Cosima nodded her head. “Like with a capital W…”

 

“Exactly!” Delphine affirmed; she intentionally locked eyes on Cosima.

 

“What do you mean a capital W?” Paul inquired.

 

“It’s a poem, by Emily Dickinson,” Delphine elaborated, not breaking her gaze across the table.

 

“A great poem.  It’s about understanding your potential and not being allowed to realize it.” Cosima elaborated. Delphine’s eyes closed for a moment, savoring Cosima’s succinct interpretation.

 

“That sounds depressing,” Paul interjected.

 

“Or empowering.” Cosima countered, talking to Paul, but connecting with Delphine.

 

“It’s so nice to meet someone who gets it.” The blonde added, almost forgetting that they were not alone, but remembering in time to elaborate for the benefit of the others, “The hardest part was that no one seemed to think his assumptions were unusual. My girlfriends were so envious that I was marrying at all, let alone into such an affluent and influential family. My mother assured me I would not feel the loss of my own dreams once I became a mother, and my father simply kissed my forehead and called me princess. Which is what Phillip called me also, ironically.” 

 

“You must have felt very alone,” Siobhan offered gently.

 

“It is interesting you should say so.” Delphine countered, “but, in actuality, I felt quite crowded, like there was no room for me, the real me, the whole me, in my own life. With my friends I felt like a fraud, pretending to me enamored by my future as much as they were. Around my father and Phillip in my life I felt like an object, a quaint thing, waiting to become what they wanted me to be. Around my mother I felt like a disappointment; I did not want for myself what she wanted for me.  It was maddening, truly, feeling the weight of everyone else’s expectations… eventually something just broke inside, and I realized with absolute certainty that I would rather be alone than caught in the middle of everyone else’s ideas of who I should be.  I needed to listen to one voice, my own voice. So here I am.”

 

For a long moment no one spoke.  Concerned she had imposed on their polite compassion, Delphine apologized, “Je suis desolée.  That was perhaps more than you wanted to hear from me.”

 

“How courageous you are, my dear.” Siobhan affirmed, “and not just for leaving your marriage, but for your honesty with us, as well.”

 

“Well, it is very easy to be honest where there is kindness.” Delphine observed.

 

“Can I just say, I’m pretty damn impressed, Delphine.” Donnie added. “Most folks who roll in here have just about no clue how they ended up here. It seems life just sort of happened to them, and they spend six weeks trying to understand what went wrong. I tip my hat to you darlin’. ” His observation made her blush.

 

“Merci, Gordo,” Delphine grinned, hoping her use of the familial nickname would help restore the sense of ease at the table and not be seen as presumptuous.

 

“You know,” he added, “I have never liked that nickname, but I could get used to hearing it from your lips Delphine!” he winked playfully.

 

Cosima had yet to speak in light of Delphine’s revelations; in fact a quiet sort of shock had settled over her brain.  She had meant to know these things about Delphine sooner, to have asked these questions before she had invented their answers, before deciding that Delphine couldn’t understand her. 

 

Hearing her brother’s flirtatious comment brought her back to the table and the conversation.  She couldn’t resist the urge to knock Donnie down a peg, since he had been so bold as to flirt with her woman.

 

“Don’t pay him any attention, Delphine.” she looked mischievously at her brother, “He’s just excited because you’re the first woman who has ever said his name besides me and S!”

 

“Ooooooooooohweeee.” Paul howled, enthusiastically supporting his sister’s harassment of their brother.

 

Cosima laughed out loud, clapping her hands. She ducked her head quickly to the left as a dinner rolls whizzed by her ear!

 

“That’s it monkey! You are gonna pay!” Donnie jumped up from the table, his chair legs screeching across the polished wood floor; Cosima’s chair flew back, tipping over as she made to flee out the side door with Donnie hot on her heels. Paul blazed through the door behind them to watch the chase.

 

Siobhan and Delphine remained seated at the table, laughing at the hijinks of the siblings; Delphine in slack-jawed, wide-eyed amusement. “Sometimes I wonder when they will stop acting like children,” Siobhan exhaled, bemused, “but more often than not, I thank God they are just as they are.”

 

“They are charming ” Delphine countered; her laughter subsided and her face settled into a wistful smile. Siobhan wondered at the sadness she saw in Delphine’s expression, but before she could ask about it, the sounds of the chase outside shifted in Donnie’s favor.  Cosima’s tone became pleading; she demanded to be put down.  Upon hearing the change, Delphine’s attention flew to the door and she rocketed toward the exit to observe, but before she got there the sound of a large volume of water being displaced silenced Cosima’s cries, which were quickly replaced by peals of raucous laughter in three distinct voices.

 

Siobhan who had seen this drama play out numerous times before had left the room briefly only to return with a towel.  She laughed at her daughter who appeared at the side door in hysterics, water dripping from her drenched hair and clothes, having been deposited in the horses water trough in retribution for her affront to Donnie’s intimate prowess.  Delphine, completely smitten with the wet cat of a girl in front of her and overwhelmed by the desire to wrap Cosima in a tender embrace, took the towel from Siobhan and wrapped it around Cosima shoulders, rubbing her upper arms to warm her.

 

 

 

When she slid her hand between her legs that night, Delphine’s mind was dizzy with questions and focused on answers.  Scenes from her evening with Cosima’s family swirled through her mind. Siobhan was happy for them; Cosima wanted her; she had kissed a woman; no, she had kissed Cosima.  Cosima was a woman; she was attracted to Cosima.  Logically, that meant she was attracted to women, yet the syllogism fell apart in the testing.

She could not reconcile the two thoughts in her mind. She could not generalize the feeling Cosima inspired in her to thoughts of other women. If her attempt to sway the direction of her current imaginings was any indication, she could not generalize those feelings to men either.  The feelings it seemed, for now, were wholly unique to Cosima. So she gave herself over to the sensations in an attempt to understand it, to understand herself, to find the answers she and Cosima both seemed to need.

 

She started by remembering her lips pressed to Cosima’s… no… it had started sooner than that…  it had happened so many times: with each affected “darlin’;” with the promises of Pleasure Domes; with the weaving together of fingers; with the lingering of embraces; with the flight of horses; with countless stolen glances; and with radiance of the setting of the sun. It had happened so many times already, and it had only been a matter of days, hours really since she had first felt it at all. 

 

She pinpointed the moment just prior to kissing Cosima as the moment when she felt the most delicious draw of longing. The memory of the ache triggered it again: the wonderful, all-encompassing need she felt to taste Cosima’s lips, to make Cosima hers.  Behind veiled eyes she was again sliding the silk of Cosima’s hair between her fingers, feeling the moisture leave her mouth, and pulling Cosima to her.

 

The pressure attempting to explode through the walls of her chest, that radiated in a painful arc across the median of her cranium, that throbbed above each of her ears, that pressed against the back of her eyes, she recognized as arousal, desire, connected deeply to the mammalian brain, the part of the brain, Delphine noted, ironically, responsible for the drive to reproduce.

 

She supposed that the sweet stretch of her sunken stomach and the familiar ache of arousal she felt when she kissed Cosima would bring the physiological responses associated with typical sexual function. Having conjured a connection to those strong psychosexual impulses, she was prepared to find evidence of her body preparing for intercourse. What she found, however, as her fingers approached her sex was a sensitivity she had never experienced; a radiant heat and intense wetness that shocked her, making her gasp at the lightest brush of her fingers across oh-so-swollen flesh.

 

At this finding, her neo-cortex buzzed. Electric currents zipped though her neurons, which sizzled in reaction, a physiological echo of learning, of her brain rewiring itself to make room for the wanting of Cosima. She yearned to push the limits of this learning, to increase the connections and associations between her existing synapses and her new desire, to increase the number and strength of those bridges that she might easily access them should she be allowed to cross them again. She wanted to test the limits of this learning.

 

Delphine explored, without urgency and in full bloom, allowing her body and mind to uncover what truths they could find together, her hips, her fingers, and her mouth helping her mind to form new synaptic connections; reordering and redefining possibility. 


	11. After Midnight

By the time she turned her Chevy back up the dirt drive to the Double S, Cosima had already decided she was an idiot and did not feel any inclination to be reminded of that fact by anyone else, no matter how loving their intentions.  So when she walked through the front door and found all three of her nearest and dearest waiting for her in the living room with a fresh pot of coffee and quizzically raised eyebrows, she decided she would entertain their questions, but planned to answer as vaguely as possible so as not to elicit out right protestation from her brothers, who were perched in the spindle backed arm chairs, or their mother, who was settled into the far arm of the couch.

 

“Soooo, how was your driiiiive?” The way Paul dragged out the vowel sounds and the suggestive shake of his head elicited an ironic chuckle from Cosima.

 

“It was fiiiiiiine.” she answered, not quite willing to offer more unless one of them was cheeky enough to ask, which to her chagrin Donnie absolutely was.

 

“Did you kiss her?!?” he asked too eagerly. And even though she wanted to state clearly that it was none of his business, Cosima’s blush came so quickly it was practically an answer in and of itself, so she felt compelled to respond more directly.

 

“No, I didn’t.” she stated, flatly and with some affected veracity. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it wasn’t honest either. In an attempt to keep her composure, she took the cup and saucer offered by Siobhan and sat down next to her mother and sipped the strong black liquid. The biting heat of the coffee against her tongue helped her forget the flush of her skin and the anxious vibration in her joints.

 

Sensing his sister’s measured response as a ruse, Paul attacked semantically, “Did _she_ kiss _you_?”

 

“Seriously?!!” she asked incredulously, almost sloshing coffee into her lap as she crossed her legs, “I am not answering that!” She pinned her gaze to the wall across the room, the heat returning to her face.

 

“And you shouldn’t, kitten; not if you don’t want to,” Siobhan affirmed, putting a gentle arm around her daughters shoulder. “but she did, didn’t she?” her mother added knowlingly.  Cosima flung her head toward her mother, wide-eyed and shocked.

 

“S!” she interjected, “Really?!?!”  That was all the answer the boys needed.

 

“Wooooooooooooo! Way to go sis!!!!” Paul’s enthusiastic whoop overlapped with Donnie’s “yeeeeehaw! Cosima!!!!” as Siobhan laughed out loud and planted a protracted and self-indulgent peck on her daughter’s cheek, punctuating it with the subtlest of promises, “Really, kitten.” 

 

Paul and Donnie had sprung to their feet, their reactions spilling out in characteristic slapstick banter.

 

“I’m surprised you came home so soon.”

 

“I’d still be there; I would. I’d be whispering----“

 

“Cosima, would you like to come see the view from my room?”

 

“It’s tray mannifeek!”

 

“Are you trying to sound French?”

 

“Wee.”

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

“Well, I’d still be there.”

 

“Speaking in…”

 

“Tongues!!!” they ended in unison.

 

Donnie and Paul grabbed each other in a melodramatic embrace, groping hands rumpling their clothes and hair, and knocking each other’s hats to the ground. Cosima, eyes rolled to the ceiling; she murmured to herself, “This is my nightmare!” but the smile on her face belied her words, revealing a contentment and security that she had denied herself for too long.

 

Once her brothers had recovered their hats and their modesty; she begged the lot of them to not let on to Delphine that they knew anything about a kiss, and they agreed.  More accurately, Siobhan agreed; Donnie and Paul conditionally accepted, with the caveat that they be allowed to nod in mysterious approval whenever they saw the two women together.

 

“Fine!” Cosima said, “But no words you two!  Not _one_ word!” she qualified, knowing they would find a loophole if she left it.

 

                  Paul crossed his heart and showed the three-fingered scout’s honor salute. “Not one word.”

 

Donnie zipped his lips and tossed away an invisible key, “Not one word.”

 

As they headed off toward their rooms for the night, Cosima shouted one final condition, “and no sound effects either!!” She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard Paul whisper a disappointed _damn_.

 

Siobhan sat with her for a few more quiet minutes before asking the question she had been holding back.  “What happened in the barn?”

 

Cosima practically spit out her coffee. “What?” her eyebrows knit themselves together, feigning confusion, “Why would you think…, I mean…,” Cosima resigned herself to revelation, “How did you know?”

 

                  “Let’s just say, I’ve been watching people for a good long while, kitten, and the two young women who walked into that barn are not the same two I saw walk out.” Cosima hadn’t considered the fact that Siobhan had seen their entire interaction from the kitchen windows; “You went in with a spring in your step and came out with lead in your heels. The both of you!”

 

                  “Yeah, I guess we did.”  Cosima admitted.

 

                  “Can you tell me about it, or would that be intruding?” Siobhan asked

 

                  “Ummmmmm, you are absolutely not intruding! No, no way.  But would you mind if maybe I didn’t for now?” Cosima asked sheepishly; she wasn’t sure how to right the course with Delphine, but she knew she wanted to, and didn’t need to ruffle her mother’s feathers needlessly.

 

                  “Of course, kitten.” came her kind reply.

 

“I just… I think I want to think about it on my own for a little bit.” Cosima clarified.

 

                  Siobhan stood and laid a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, leaning down to kiss her temple as they parted for the night. “When ever you are ready, my love.”  She added as she was about to leave, “Don’t forget that the Smith woman is arriving tomorrow, so she’ll need some tending to in the evening.”

 

                  “But Donnie said she was coming on Friday.” Cosima offered, not entirely certain she wouldn’t welcome the distraction of her new ward’s arrival.

 

                  “No; she arrives tomorrow,” Siobhan corrected, not annoyed but clearly certain of her own schedule. “And Cosima, be gentle.”

 

                  “Of course,” Cosima affirmed, compassion lacing her simple words

 

                  “With her, and yourself.” She smiled warmly at her daughter.

 

Siobhan squeezed Cosima’s shoulder before making to remove her hand, but Cosima wrapped her own finger around it and brought it to her cheek before turning to kiss it; she did not sever their connection until she added with deep sincerity, “Thank you… for everything, S.  I really don’t know what I would do with out you.”

 

“I love you, Cosima.” 

 

As Cosima lay in bed, the near steady whisper of zephyrs rustling aspen leaves lulled her into contemplative repose; she replayed the events of the last few hours in her mind and considered both her conceit and her fear

 

Despite a healthy appreciation for her own intelligence, aptitude and charm, Cosima had never thought of her self as arrogant, but she was certainly beginning to see that trait reflected in her interactions with Delphine.  How many assumptions had she made over the course of the last few days? Assumptions the blonde refuted with her actions, time and again. Cosima realized that from the earliest moments of their meeting she had cast Delphine as character in her own sad, little drama.

 

Initially she willed Delphine to play the flattered paramour, easily manipulated with a clever turn of phrase or false humility, but, instead, Delphine had shown herself to be an intelligent, brave and compassionate woman who would not be manipulated. Rather she met Cosima earnestly, intrepidly, in the midst of their flirtation, never seeming to think that Cosima’s intentions were other than what she presented them to be.

 

In fact, it had been Cosima who trembled when Delphine dared to ask for confirmation and clarity; Cosima who panicked when Delphine recognized her struggle and searched for truth with her lips; it had been Cosima whose terror had wrested them apart, her fear of feeling, of falling, of failing obscuring her truth and Delphine’s. Her fear compelled her to recast the blonde as desperate, confused, clumsily seeking refuge from loneliness.  She had asked Delphine not to flirt with her, she had asked her to be compassionate, not to display more than she felt, and Delphine had agreed.

 

But at dinner, Delphine had spoken her truth; she had rejected life as Wife. She had said she’d rather be alone than trapped in a torrent of expectations. Delphine wasn’t desperate. She wasn’t keening to fall in love, and certainly not with a woman.  She wasn’t neglected or broken like so many of the women Cosima had wrangled over the years; she didn’t need to be coddled, held, dusted off, rescued, or reassembled; Delphine had done that work already; she had made _herself_ whole by breaking away from her marriage.

 

Cosima twisted the pieces round in her mind.  She remembered the intensity of Delphine’s gaze as she rubbed her arms, helping her dry off.  She remembered the awkwardness as Delphine’s expression before she leaned in to land two disappointingly platonic kisses to the left and right of Cosima’s cheeks, rather than at the corners of her mouth.  She remembered the tight smile and labored nod of agreement that had accompanied her assurance that they might be friends. She remembered the ease with which Delphine had slid their mouths together; the sincerity with which she had spoken of beds and lovers; the surrender in her acquiescence to Cosima’s requests. She remembered everything, she considered every angle, and the only interpretation that made sense was that she had been a fool.

 

                  Cosima kicked her blankets off in frustration; she thrust herself up out of bed and paced the floor, fists balled tight, knocking together at the knuckles in simmering regret.  “Damn it!” she cursed at herself; questions flooded her mind.  Had she destroyed her chances with Delphine? How could she broach the subject again? Could Delphine tolerate another complete and inexplicable reversal of Cosima’s emotional energy? How many times might a person experience emotional whiplash before simply walking away. 

 

                  How many times would she have allowed Emily back into her arms, her heart and her bed before refusing her forever? That was a question she knew the answer to immediately. She only hoped Delphine was a fraction as hopeless as she. That somehow Delphine might have pardoned her conceit and likewise be pacing holes in the carpet or lying in bed thinking fondly of…. _Cosima_ ; she heard her own name whispered on the westward wind. She knew it was a phantom, a hope filtered through perception, but also it sounded so clear, so familiar, so liltingly…. _french_ … that she could not settle until she had peeked out the window just to make sure Delphine had not come to her in a fever of confusion or, she permitted herself to dream, of desire.


	12. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

At dawn Cosima stirred; she usually took a leisurely half hour (sometimes much longer) to wake up… stretching and nodding off intermittently until she felt ready to face the day.  Today, however, she woke up with a recently familiar ache in her chest, an almost paranoid nervousness that something large was about to fall apart and take her with it; it forced her from bed all too quickly, and she had to take several rapid breathes after sitting up just to stop from passing out.  She smacked the heels of her hands to her forehead, “Shake it off, Cosima!” she commanded herself.  “Focus. Focus. Focus.” It took an act of sheer will to force Delphine from her mind; she regretted having to do it, but the woman’s lingering grace threatened to drown her.

 

She looked forward to a hard days work; physical exertion grounded her, kept her thoughts and feelings rooted in the present.  She dressed quickly in her jeans boots and camisole, grabbing her favorite red button down to throw on as she marched across the yard to the guest house; she noticed the Chevy was gone and regretted that she had not put honey on the list of supplies and groceries that Siobhan kept on the roll of adding machine paper that hung near the refrigerator. Darwin was certainly going to earn a treat today.

 

The Double S was a working ranch, and Siobhan made sure her guests understood as much before agreeing to take them on.  She believed that work was good for the soul; that it could connect women to themselves, help them understand their own strength; their worth.   So Donnie, Paul, and Cosima spent every morning eating with and working beside the guests until lunch, when everyone was free to take advantage of the efficiency of numbers to enjoy some leisure time or to settle business in town; most days, however, they all simply continued under Siobhan’s direction doing the jobs that needed doing. 

 

Cosima mounted the guesthouse’s wooden wrap around porch in a graceful leap over its single, modest step. The guesthouse had used to be hands’ quarters, but as the majority of hands now made residence in the family home, the ranch had naturally made space for paying guests.  She walked through the barn red front door, dusty and faded from years of exposure and made a note to paint it when she got a free afternoon.

 

“¡Cosima! ¿Como estás chica?” Guillermo, the tall, curly haired chef was walking from the kitchen toward the great room.  Her eyes recognized right away that he was wearing her favorite two-toned boots —embroidered roses decorating the black leather shaft and echoing the deep red of the tongue and vamp that covered his foot.  It was no secret to the man that Cosima had coveted those boots since the day he bought them.  He was carrying a large pan of chilaquiles.

 

The smell of warm corn and onions did something exceedingly pleasant to Cosima’s brain, drawing a languorous smile to her lips and an anticipatory demand from her stomach; her eyes rolled back just a little as she offered an appreciative, “Mmmmmmmm, Memo! That smells amazing!

 

“¡Gracias, mihija! Now make yourself useful and grab the salsa, yeah? y el chorizo.”

 

“Yeah,” she changed direction toward the kitchen, “sure thing,” she said, but stopped suddenly just in front of the saloon style doors. “Oh, and Memo,” she added; he stopped, looking back at her with raised eyebrows, “Nice boots.” She winked and nodded her head; he laughed and they both disappeared into separate rooms.

 

Guillermo had worked at the ranch in one capacity or another for as long as Cosima could remember; while in high school, he had mucked stalls for extra money on the weekends. After graduating, he groomed the boarded horses and managed the tack for the ranch in exchange for room, board and a modest salary— which Siobhan always supplemented with gifts of cash when she had some on hand. He would naturally refuse, so she took to simply slipping a few bills into the pockets of his shirts as they hung on the line to dry. When he found them he would smile, and spend a little extra of family dinner that week; he loved cooking more than any other occupation he had tried, and employed his passions to the benefit of Cosima’s family, of which he was an honorary member, several times a week.

 

It was during one of Memo’s epic family dinners, in fact, that Siobhan hatched the idea to take on summer boarders.  Somewhere between her first and final bites of carne asada, it occurred to her that Reno was full of people who were likely missing the warmth of home, and by the time the last bite of arroz con leche was scraped from her bowl at desert she had offered Memo a raise and the stewardship of the guesthouse— cooking, cleaning and doing the basic repairs.  He was more than happy to oblige.

 

Almost six years on and she had yet to regret the decision; in fact she saw no end to the Double S’s tenure as a dude ranch as long as it continued to bring her daughter home every summer. 

 

Siobhan had a very long list of errands to run that morning and had not anticipated being idle before meeting the train, but everything had gone in her favor that morning and she found herself with time to kill, so she headed to the Riverside.

 

It was Delphine’s declarations at dinner the night before that had inspired the thought, but it was the persistence of the idea across hours and hours of contemplation that convinced Siobhan she was not being presumptuous; Delphine Cormier might be the perfect person to nurse a broken heart.

 

When her room phone rang, Delphine jumped. “Merde!”

 

Phones didn’t generally startle her, but in the retreat of a hotel room in Reno, she had not anticipated receiving calls that were not scheduled ahead of time.  She had spoken to Felix briefly when she got home from the ranch the previous night, but having forgotten the time change, she had awoken him from a very deep sleep and, though she wasn’t certain he would remember it, they made promises to speak that evening.  Even by the loosest standards, 11:00 am Pacific Standard Time did not exactly equate to “evening” on the East Coast, so she lifted the receiver to her ear and answered cautiously.

 

“Allo.”

 

“Good Morning, Delphine?” an accented English puzzled the blonde.

 

“Oui.” she recognized the voice, but could not place it.

 

“Forgive me if this seems forward, but this is Siobhan Sadler; I’m in the lobby, and I was wondering if you might be free for a little late breakfast or early lunch?  Or, if you’d prefer, it is a lovely day; we could walk the river.  I’d like to speak to you about something.”

 

Delphine’s mind went blank, overwhelmed by the mystery of Siobhan’s appearance, but also comforted by an odd certainty that she knew the woman’s motives for calling on her. Delphine was aching to know more about Cosima, and who knew her better than her mother? “Of course, I would like that. Please give me a moment.”

 

“Oh please, don’t rush; I’ve turned up out of nowhere and the lobby is quite comfortable. I’ll just a have a seat and read the paper.   Come down when you’re ready; and thank you.”

 

Delphine took almost no time, slipping her boots over her jeans and deciding the simple white t-shirt she had on was more than comfortable enough for the midday heat. On her way out the door, she decided to grab the Stetson from the dresser top.  A walk on the river sounded lovely, the warmth of the sun and memory drew her back to its banks.

 

“Thank you for agreeing to spend some time together.” Siobhan offered appreciatively as they set out on the river walk. 

 

“It is, of course, my pleasure.” Delphine expressed warmly, “Please allow me to thank you again for dinner, I had very pleasant evening.”

 

“Did you?” Siobhan asked and Delphine wondered at the hint of skepticism in the tone of her voice.

 

“Uh, oui.” Delphine. 

 

Siobhan had promised Cosima she would not interfere so she bit back her question and continued, “Of course you did. We all did. It was a lovely evening, if not a little chillier for Cosima than the rest of us…”

 

At that the two women chuckled together.  “I could not imagine my brother and I having such a quarrel and ending it so dramatically!  We were raised to pretend politeness in conflict; it simply made us both skillful at using words as weapons.” Delphine confessed more than she meant to. “I wonder how we might be with each other as grown ups if we had settled things with more barbarism!” Delphine was playing now with hyperbole and Siobhan appreciated her humor, but time was pressing on her mind and she felt compelled to get to the business at hand, but she paused.

 

She felt uncharacteristically lost as to how to begin the conversation, especially as she had not asked Cosima’s input before calling on Delphine. She decided to be direct and trust Delphine to make decisions congruent with the other situation. “Pardon me for being so forward, but I wanted to speak with you because last night, at dinner, I was so very impressed by your confidence and the way you were able to explain how and why you decided to leave your husband. The truth is Delphine, not many women would react like you did.  I see women all of the time who abandon their own dreams to make their husbands’, their mothers’ or their fathers’ dreams come true.  Sometimes they seem genuinely happy with those decisions, sometimes they are made to suffer for them.”

 

Delphine struggled to see the connection Siobhan was trying to make; her English was not as strong as her French, but she could usually make reasonable inferences. In this, her brain could not connect the dots.  What did any of this have to do with Cosima? Besides being cast aside by a lover, had she also been married? Was Cosima suffering? The situation seemed to be getting more and more complicated and Delphine wondered if maybe she hadn’t made a wiser choice by so far keeping the depths of her passion to herself. She felt almost panicked and more than a little jealous.  She did not like to think of Cosima with a man. It seemed that none she had ever met could possibly be worthy of the amazing woman she had fallen for so completely. A look of distressed confusion settled over her brow; Siobhan had not yet seen “the crease” and did not know that it indicated curiosity more than disapproval.

 

“I’m sorry,” Delphine stated, “are we talking about Cosima?”

 

“Cosima? No, love.” Siobhan corrected, chuckling at the thought and at Delphine’s misapprehension.

 

“Oh.” Delphine stopped and looked at the brunette, “I thought that when you said you wanted to talk that, well… I hoped.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Siobhan’s expression lit with understanding, “Of course, we can talk about anything you might want. Only, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind hearing me out about our Mrs. Smith who is due to arrive in about an hour?”

 

The enigmatic Mrs. Smith.  The woman who had disrupted Delphine’s waking thoughts and insinuated herself into a dark corners of her creative imagination, threatening her phantom future with a scientist who did not trust her enough to return her kiss. What could Delphine possibly be able to do for Mrs. Smith?  More importantly, would she want to do it?  Her thoughts were practically calloused, and she hated them.

 

“Of course.” Delphine said, not a shred of certainty in her voice. “How can I help?”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

                  Standing with Siobhan in the shade of the depot building, waiting for the 12:15 train from Los Angles to arrive, Delphine considered how little time had passed since she had disembarked from her own coach, stepping out of the life she had always known and into a life she had never considered.  It had become comfortable so quickly, too quickly, or at least more quickly than was rationale. And now, having already made leap after leap off of cliff after cliff, she was ready to jump again.

 

Four days ago she did not know the Truckee from the Mississippi, the Riverside from the Ritz, the tumbleweed from the sage brush, or longing from affection. Now she knew them all, and knew the difference. Overwhelmed, though not unpleasantly, by how the grand experiment of life had transfigured itself in the last few days, she noted how inconsequential her divorce might be in the reporting of it when all was said and done, how her marriage and its dissolution might end a footnote, a catalyst for something that was much more…. exothermic.

 

“Thank you, Delphine, again for agreeing to do this.” Siobhan’s voice interrupted her contemplation, “I know it is not probably how you though your day would turn out. “

 

“Non, it’s my pleasure.  I am looking forward to being… useful.” Delphine wondered if she had lost her mind, “And, you are certain that this is a good idea?”

 

“You’re worried about Cosima’s reaction aren’t you?” Siobhan chided. Delphine’s eyebrows raised in acquiescence, “Well don’t be.  Some decisions we make from the gut.  Cosima will love it, even if she doesn’t know it yet.” And with that Siobhan winked, and with that wink Delphine’s stomach plummeted like an elevator car cut lose at the cable, and she had simply to hold on for the ride.

 

As the train came to a stop, Siobhan held up the sturdy white placard with the name Smith scrawled across it. Delphine scanned to swarm of passengers looking for a woman who might be looking for them.  A woman stopped in the center of the platform; her posture might have been elegant if it didn’t look quite so forced. Her feet were close together, her arms hinged at the elbow so her hands could be held together in front of her sternum. A small place purse hung at her left wrist.

 

She let her eyes landed on groups of people one at time, and rather than moving her eyes, like an owl she moved her entire head to shift he gaze. This gave the impression that she was frightened, but the expression on her face was almost haughty with a hint of distress.  Delphine recognized her pain and she approached her cautiously. “Mrs. Smith?” she questioned as she got within five steps of the woman.

 

“Yes? How can I help you?”

 

‘We are here to take you to the ranch.” Delphine affected a very calm tone in her voice.  “You are staying at the Double S, non?”

 

“I am. But I am afraid I won’t go with anyone but Siobhan Sadler; she said she would be here and you have the wrong accent.”  The woman was certainly demanding and blunt. Perhaps she had made a mistake agreeing to Siobhan’s request.

 

“Siobhan is just there,” Delphine motioned behind her.

 

“And who are you?” the brunette’s bun was very tight and she spoke with a measure of mistrust; Delphine wondered if the physical pain of her hairstyle might be affecting her mood.

 

“I am Delphine Cormier; I arrived from Boston 2 days ago.” Delphine shared; and the woman’s expression softened for the first time since Delphine had stepped toward her.

 

“You did?” Mrs. Smith’s eyes began to water.  “And you are here for…. just the summer?” The question dripped in subtext, and Delphine nodded her answer. “Well, I guess we should go then.” Mrs. Smith, more enigmatic now in the flesh than she ever had been in Delphine’s imagination, moved toward Siobhan, who took her hand and made a polite introduction.

 

Delphine wondered if she looked so stiff two days ago.

 

They loaded the new comers bags and stopped back by the Riverside to settle some details before heading out of town.  The younger women conversed as Siobhan drove Second Street toward the Double S.

 

“Delphine, may I ask you a question?” Mrs. Smith inquired.  Delphine replied that she might ask anything she wished to know. “You’ve been here two days you say?”

 

“Oui,” she confirmed.

 

“And the boots, dungarees and the hat? Did you bring that with you?”

 

“Non,” Delphine confessed, “I bought it all yesterday.” She chuckled at herself.

 

                  “Really?”

 

“Vraiment.” Delphine continued, “Do you like it?  I can take you to Sears to get your very own.”  Delphine winked at Mrs. Smith and wondered for a moment of she was flirting with the stranger.

 

“Well, it is _something_!” the woman replied.

 

“I guess _something_ just got into me.” Delphine insinuated as she savored several delicious memories at once. “I’ve been surprising myself quite a lot recently.”

 

“Have you?” the stranger mused, “It must be the grief.”

 

“Maybe.” Delphine tossed out, knowing full well that grief had nothing to do with her recent bout of self-discovery.  She twisted a piece of her blonde hair and held it across her top lip, the scent of the shampoo filling her with a heady feeling of beauty and possibility.

 

“Can I ask another question?”

 

“Of course.” Delphine continued to smile.

 

“Why are you really here?”

 

“Excuse me?!” Delphine wasn’t sure how to feel about the question, or how to answer it, but she was certainly impressed at the asking.

 

“I only mean, look at you! You are beautiful, blonde, French. It doesn’t make any sense. You would make any man very happy.”

 

“I am really here to get divorced.” Delphine insisted. “I had higher aspirations than making any man happy, to any degree.”

 

“You asked for the divorce?” her words were steeped in disbelief, “But…” she continued, “what will you do with out him?”

 

“Well,” Delphine continued, “I asked my husband for a divorce because, please excuse the vulgarity, he was an asshole! So I imagine I’ll be happy.”

 

Mrs. Smith’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, and her expression hung in wordless wonder for a moment before finally offering words of comprehension, “Holy fishsticks.”

 

 

Siobhan pulled the Chevy up to the house she laid on the horn. Paul and Cosima trotted over to the car; a brief look of shock flashed on Cosima’s face as she recognized Delphine; the look was quickly replaced by a delighted smile when she saw how perfectly the Stetson suited Delphine’s wild curls.

 

“Paul, Cosima, this is Mrs. Smith.”

 

“Pleased to meet you”s were followed by a “Please, call me Alison.”

 

“Paul take Mrs. Smith’s bags up to her room,” Siobhan instructed.

 

Dutifully her grabbed her suitcase and offered a polite, “Right this way ma’am.”

 

She followed him toward the guesthouse.

 

“Now, Cosima, you grab Delphine’s bags and take them to the house. She’ll be in the guestroom.”  But Cosima failed to move; rather she fumbled for words.

 

“Excuse me?” Cosima stammered. “Delphine’s bags… What? Where?”

 

“Cosima,” Siobhan stated again, looking her dead in the eye and fighting back a smile at her daughter’s reaction. “take Delphine’s bags to the guestroom. She will be staying with us for the balance of the summer.”

 

“Surprise?” Delphine offered, a hopeful smile on her face.

 


	13. Back in the Saddle

It hadn’t been a week since they had found the ultimate expression of affection in Cosima’s girlhood bed that Emily Callahan had come to call on her sweetheart. When she opened the door, Cosima’s expression was a quirky blend of relief and desire. For months the two girls had spent every waking moment, not occupied by school or family obligations, together. They spent the afterschool hours doing homework in each other’s company; each held a book in reserve to read in case the other had a bit more work some evenings than others.   Cosima stayed past their study hours to help Emily prepares meals for her family as both her mother and father worked as dealers at the Nugget and rarely made it home to eat with their children. 

 

On Sundays, after church, Emily came to help Cosima groom Darwin; the girls working eventually in an intimately familiar rhythm, each making gentle circles over the horse’s sensitive flesh with a curry comb before moving body brushes in long gentle strokes over the taut muscles of the massive animal before them; they would finish side by side combing his course black mane, which Emily always insisted Cosima should braid, as it gave her an excuse to step behind her friend and create a matching style for horse and rider. Cosima never argued.

 

Neither girl would have told a soul over those months that they were falling for each other. They couldn’t have. Neither of them knew.  The ache of proximity, unfamiliar in its intensity, when seen through the eyes with which they had been raised to see, felt like friendship.  Certainly all young women warmed and blushed in the presence of their friends. Certainly all young women longed to inhale the scent of each other’s shampoo and lace their fingers together as they stood too long in doorways at night. Certainly all young women woke from dreams into darkness, fiercely wishing for the gentle press of lips to linger, growing warmer and wetter rather than dissipating into the silent chill of the night. Certainly.

 

After they had mucked out Darwin’s stall and those of his sire and dame, Cosima and Emily would saddle up and head toward the curvaceous silhouette of Peavine Mountain. They rode for hours in the hills, sometimes dismounting to take in the sights even more deliberately, or sitting on an hospitable log or rock to discuss some engaging topic that emerged from between the sagebrush and the stands of Russian olive trees that grew in the gullies on the hillside. The distinctive blue green leaves on the trees, just like the dusty and muted greens of all desert plants, whispered rather than sang their songs into the warm desert air, sometimes accented by the croaking call of the chukar or the frantic dance of the quail. Nothing was beneath their notice or beyond the scope of their interest in each other.

 

Most weekends, Lucy would trail behind them, simply because she could not be soothed when she was left behind. The first time Cosima had ridden off with Emily, the cow had stood and lowed so long at the horizon line that Siobhan finally found a use for her new but neglected Kodak Brownie home movie camera. Though it had sat in its box since she had received it for Christmas the previous year, she wrestled the roll of Kodachrome film into the device and shot a couple of minutes of footage twice an hour and played it for Cosima when she returned.

 

“Oh no!” Cosima had groaned. “She’s so sad!”

 

“It was too charming, kitten; I had to show you!” Siobhan grinned.

 

After that Cosima always rode by the herd on the way out, and checked in with her favorite bovine. If Lucy came to her and walked the fence line, Cosima would sneak her out an access gate and let her join their party.

 

It surprised Emily at first how adept Lucy was at navigating the rocky and frequently uneven terrain. Years of seeing cattle rounded up and grazing in large, but level, acres of grass had led to the impression among non-ranchers that cows, though thick were, some how, not also rugged or sure-footed animals, an impression bolstered (no doubt) by the common adolescent practice of cow tipping. Cosima had to remind her friend frequently that cows had successfully been raised and herded across diverse terrains in Asia and Europe, _I mean the Alps for crying out loud!_ long before they ever came to the American West. Once Emily had gotten accustomed to Lucy’s facile progress with them across the desert and up into the mountains, she was left then to wonder only at the heifer’s unique attachment to Cosima.

 

As the months of Cosima and Emily’s friendship had given way to weeks of flirtation, Lucy had more than once spoiled a mood between the two.  Once, she inserted a slimy nose between their arms as they held hands. Another time she snorted into the Earth and blew an inordinate amount of dust into Emily’s eyes as she lay with her head in Cosima’s lap.  And more than once, just as Emily felt bold enough to lean in for a kiss, Lucy had rested her massive skull on Cosima’s shoulder, “She’s jealous of you,” Cosima had said the third time it happened, “She can see how much I care about you.”

 

Then she gently cooed at the giant animal, moved her aside and returned her attention to the lips of the young woman whose affection had inspired Lucy’s envy.

 

“I can’t believe I had to steal you from a cow.” Emily giggled into Cosima’s kiss.

 

“Well, she’s not just any cow….” Cosima cocked her head playfully at Emily.

 

“I know, she’s yours.” Emily rolled her eyes as she repeated the words she had heard a hundred times before.

 

“Just like you.” Cosima cooed, and Emily snaked her hand into Cosima’s brown hair, pulling their mouths back together.

 

It was true; ever since Donnie had deposited that drenched and ill calf in the hay that night, Cosima and Lucy had had a connection, probably because Cosima always led with her heart (even if her head chastised her for it later). She would rather be kind than right, unless being right was the only was to be kind, the she would choose her path compassionately.  The love and kindness she showed Lucy in those few weeks during which she was isolated from the herd must have been particularly potent.  In Siobhan’s 25 years of ranching, Lucy was the only cow she had ever seen leave its social group in order to be with a human. It was so unexpected, in fact, that she would have said it was against nature, except that it wasn’t.

 

Herding behavior serves an evolutionary purpose; over centuries the instinct to flock together was strengthened as the formation of large species groups allowed otherwise vulnerable creatures to fend off attack, to more successfully nurture their young, and to find mates. Some herd animals even divide survival tasks among constituent members in order to better harness their collective productive capacity.  The herd offers protection and provision.  It offers the individual a better life than one based on individual interest and ability, so for an animal like Lucy to simply wander off to follow Cosima Niehaus into the desert —  well, that behavior ran against almost every natural instinct the animal possessed, save one, the instinct to bond.  Cosima was hers, and she would follow her anywhere. 

 

Cosima understood and evidenced this simple devotion: animals, like Lucy and Darwin, all they required was to be loved and looked after; she expected humans to be the same way.

 

“Hey,” Cosima beamed at the slight girl in front of her. Emily’s light brown bangs fell just below the middle of her forehead; the rest of her mousy colored hair was swept back into a neat ponytail.  She wore a playful swing dress made of light, white cotton with sparse but beautiful red roses splashed around the bottom two thirds of the skirt. The bodice laced up the front, and a red sweater completed the ensemble. Cosima could not remember a more delicious looking outfit to ever grace the comely, young woman.  

 

Despite the romance her outfit communicated, Emily Callahan entered the house hands behind her back, cautiously. She must be nervous Cosima surmised. After all, neither had really known what they were doing; what was possible. They had groped each other according to sensation; the idea that this or that was wanted here or there. They’d barely had language to name the things they wanted. Fingers. Hands. Higher. Lower. Inside. More. 

 

It had been urgent and sweet, and they had lain together for almost twenty minutes before either acknowledged the effect of the setting sun on the ambient light in the room. Emily was expected at home by the time the white walls, painted now with the warm reds and oranges of dusk, turned grey with the moonlight.  And though Cosima missed her violently during the week, she said she understood when Emily begged off their study dates, citing an increase in inquiries about the time the girls were in each other’s company.  She promised to come on Friday, when her father got home from his shift.

 

And here it was, Friday, and Emily was in her living room, sitting across from her and Cosima was on Cloud Nine, and she was just about to speak, when Emily cut her off.

 

“I have a surprise for you.” she said quickly, a look of nondescript, but positive emotion painted across her face, made eerie by the unveiled sadness in her eyes. 

 

“Ok.” Cosima said, suddenly unnerved by the expression on her new lover’s face.

 

Emily continued to speak in a rapid monologue reminding Cosima that Christopher whom she had been “seeing a little” before Cosima and Emily became friends had been over to see her father a couple of weeks ago and they had talked on the porch and even though Emily couldn’t be sure what they had talked about she got the feeling that her name had been mentioned and _oh hey don’t you remember me telling you that Christopher was so fond of Peavine and had taken us all up to the summit to look over the city….  and it was so amazing to be there with my family looking at the lights of downtown and I just felt so safe, Cosima, like I belonged and had a place and… well, he took me there again last night, alone this time and well…_

“Surprise!” she said as she held out her left had; a thin gold band with what might have been a diamond chip in a center setting that was pathetically small sat on her ring finger.

 

Cosima, very intelligent and a quick study to boot, put the pieces together rather quickly; she spoke with an intent that was half disbelief and half venom. “Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” 

 

“Cosima, please.” Emily begged, reaching out to touch Cosima, who jerked away. “Be happy for me, please.”

 

Cosima’s reaction was immediate and spectacular. “GET OUT!” she screamed and she jabbed her finger toward the front door of the ranch house.

 

The pain ripping across Cosima’s countenance made it impossible for Emily to suppress tears any longer. She wept openly at the loss she was forcing upon them both and begged one more time, “Cosima, please. Please, try to understand. I love you.”

 

Enraged, the brunette strode forcefully across the short distance between them, arms cocked back. Emily wanted to cower but instead stood still, arms slack at her sides, waiting to be struck. Instead, Cosima threw both arms violently around the thin frame of the girl in front of her and locked them in place as a keening cry strangling her vocal chords.  Emily practically collapsed into the rigid strength of Cosima’s despair and allowed her agony to spill over in even more convulsive bursts.  After many long minutes of grieving together, Cosima’s breathing calmed. She moved her hands to Emily’s face and kissed her, tenderly, across the cheek bones, on her eyelids, at the corners of her mouth, and, finally, on her forehead. She cast her eyes down to the carpet and let her arms fall limp; an exhausted, “Go to hell,” fell from her lips as she slowly pulled herself away from the whimpering girl before her and walked out the front door.

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

 

“Oh my god,” Cosima stood up impossibly tall; her head bounced between Delphine and Mrs. S. The word _surprise_ echoed in her head as she tried to make friends with the idea of Delphine living, sleeping , changing, bathing, breathing 20 feet from her own bed. “You’re serious aren’t you?” The disbelief permeating her tone shifted to bemused sincerity when she added, a half smirk pulling her head sideways toward Delphine, “Hey Delphine… nice hat.” 

 

The white t-shirt and Stetson the blonde had thrown on that morning had had a pronounced, if predictable, effect on Cosima’s parasympathetic nervous system, and she was torn between attending to the dissonance of her mind or the fluttering of her… everything else.

 

“Merci,” Delphine smiled shyly, her own passions stirring perceptibly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cosima said to neither Delphine nor Siobhan in particular, “someone is going to have to explain this to me. You know I’m no good with surprises, S.” Cosima insisted. She rested her right foot on the rear bumper of the car and leaned across her own knee. She drew and released her breath intentionally.

 

Mrs. S., grinning, stepped to her daughter and placed a hand on the young woman’s back and a kiss on her cheek. “There’s honey in the feed bag; you forgot to put it on the list.”

 

Cosima hummed an acknowledgement, as a muted _thank you_ stayed half hidden in the shadows.

 

 “And I picked up his new bit too. Remember Richard will be here in half an hour.” she stated matter-of-factly and then turned her eyes to Delphine. “As for explanations, I’ll leave you to it, Delphine…. And you kitten,” she took Cosima’s face in her hands to secure eye contact, “listen, with your whole heart.”  A quiet stillness lay across Cosima’s countenance, though there was movement enough behind her eyes. 

 

As Siobhan walked off toward the house, Delphine approached Cosima and sat against the bumper, her arm millimeters from Cosima’s calf.

 

“So.” Delphine began.

 

Cosima echoed almost instantly, “So.”

 

The two women looked at each other. The air between them was warm and comfortable, ripe with questions. Delphine wrapped her arm around Cosima’s calf, she felt the lean length of the muscle as Cosima’s heel angled down toward the ground.  Cosima’s breath caught audibly in her chest. 

 

“Hello, Cosima.” Delphine tightened her grip, squeezing Cosima’s leg, behind the knee. 

 

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Cosima moaned involuntarily at the contact; her eyes fluttering shut; her voice was breathy; her tone— surrender. “Hey Delphine.”

 

Recognizing the mounting tension between them, Delphine felt herself wanting to move her hand higher, to touch more of Cosima, to kiss her again, but she knew for those overtures to be accepted Cosima needed transparency in her actions and intentions.

 

She suggested they walk in order to mitigate some of her own tightening desire; Cosima readily agreed and suggested they go to the barn, explaining that Darwin needed to be groomed and saddled before the vet, Richard, arrived. 

 

“Won’t that make examining him more difficult?” Delphine inquired, as they walked the few hundred yards toward the red barn.

 

“Oh, no, no.” Cosima clarified, “Richard is looking at some of the cattle today. Darwin and I are just doing the cutting.”

 

“Cutting. Is that like the picture I saw at dinner?” Delphine smiled, remembering the strange posture of the pair and Siobhan’s assurance that it would be _quite a sight._

“Erm,” Cosima was flattered than Delphine had noticed her, and answered rather pleased with the situation, “Yes.”

 

“Well, I will look forward to seeing that.” Delphine turned her head toward Cosima and smiled so sincerely that the brunette blushed.  She reached between them and shocked Delphine completely by grabbing her hand. “Come on, I’ll teach you how groom a horse, while you tell me what the hell is going on!”

 

The conversation began with currycombing, the importance of circular strokes and how every horses, like every person is different. Some horses are very sensitive and balk at the touch of the metal toothed grooming tools; they have to be babied with feathery strokes and ghosted touches.  Other horses, like Darwin, appreciated firm pressure, massaging and dislodging the dirt and hair that made his skin itch and that could irritate and fester under the heat of the saddle.

“Like this?” Delphine asked from the horse’s left shoulder, the muscle of which released in an obvious spasm as she combed.

 

“Ummmm, Delphine, look at his face.” Darwin’s eyes were half closed as he gave languid nods of his dappled chin. “He’s communicating pretty clearly how he’s feeling.” Delphine smiled, and scratched Darwin’s jaw as she continued to comb; he gently sorted his appreciation.

 

“Oui, it would seem so.” she said. “And Cosima, in that spirit, I do want to talk to you about why I came here.”

 

Cosima, in her element found herself comfortable enough to be flirtatious, though her efforts were clearly tempered by caution.  “It’s cool, Delphine. I already know.”

 

“You do?” Delphine eyed her skeptically.

 

“Of course. You got back to the hotel and realized something was missing; you couldn’t put your finger on it, but you just couldn’t stay away either.” A nervous smile played at the brunette’s lips; Delphine mirrored the expression and countered with her own coy statement. She was addicted to flirting with Cosima.

 

Before she had even registered the thought, she answered. “Oui. It seems there is a woman here who needs me.” She popped her brow before adding in a passionate whisper, “Desperately.”

 

“Hahahaha!” Cosima’s admiration of Delphine’s efforts was clear.  “Desperately?” After years of practice, Cosima had finished combing Darwin’s right side and come around to the beasts left haunch to help Delphine. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?” She gave Delphine a gentle hip check and a wink.

 

“Not according to your mother,” Delphine hip checked Cosima back, hard, forcing the brunette to stumble sideways and hop back up to secure sure footing. “This was her idea, chéri!”

 

“Really?” Cosima shot back, not quite disbelieving. She stepped up and took the currycomb from Delphine, placed them on the grooming bench.

 

“C’est vrai,” Delphine shrugged, with more than a modicum of nonchalance. 

 

“S asked you to come live here for the summer.” It wasn’t a question; she handed Delphine on of the soft bristle body brushes, adding “Long strokes with the direction of his hair growth.”

 

“Oui” Delphine affirmed for her as the two started brushing Darwin’s body.

 

“In the family house…” Cosima added to her quiet musing.  It was clear to Delphine that Cosima was running this information through every cognitive filter she had as she methodically groomed her horse. “And why would she do that Delphine?” Cosima asked sincerely.

 

“She seems to think,” Delphine answered truthfully, “that I might help mend a broken heart.”

 

Cosima wanted to be surprised, but knew her mother well enough to not be. Siobhan was no stranger to complication and usually confronted challenges head on, but why would she be _so_ heavy handed in something Cosima had specifically asked her to leave alone?  Suddenly less amused, Cosima sought clarification. She stopped her attention to Darwin’s coat and asked, “Delphine. Did Siobhan tell to you about Emily?”

 

Delphine’s eyes widened when she heard the unfamiliar name that seemed to carry so much weight for Cosima, but she continued to groom the horse to preserve a sense of normalcy. “I’m sorry.” Delphine’s brow creased. ‘Who is Emily?”  Her question was sincere and Cosima recognized the foolishness of her assumption instantly.

 

 “Umm,” Cosima faltered as the weight of truth settled on her chest, her hands and fingers twitched as she tried to speak. “Well, Emily was, ummmm,” she blew out a steady stream of air, uttering nonsensical vowel strings. “Umm, Emily was, or is, the girl, eeerrrrrr umm, that I sort of, ummmmmmmmmm.”  Her mind reeled looking for the appropriate words.

 

Delphine, recognizing this fragility from two nights ago, stopped brushing and turned to Cosima, stating plainly. “The woman who was your lover,” once again stealing Cosima’s breath with her directness.

 

“Okay….” Cosima chuckled, “Umm, yes. That.” Cosima nerves were palpable. She tossed the grooming brush to the bench and her hands, which had flown in a wildly anxious dance as she eschewed self-disclosure, were shoved now into the pockets of her jeans. Childlike and taciturn, she could hardly look Delphine in the eye as she asked, “Did Siobhan talk to you about that?”

 

Delphine also returned her brush to its home. She approached Cosima slowly, but with obvious intent; she hooked her hands around Cosima’s forearms and tugged, gently. When Cosima’s hands emerged from her pockets, Delphine captured them in her own. “Cosima,” she offered, “I, of course want to hear about Emily; in fact, I am very interested, but I would only hear what you are willing to tell me yourself.” Cosima breathed easier, knowing that she had not been exposed. “Siobhan asked me here because of Alison. She thought my story might help her understand her own. Or perhaps see it differently.”

 

It was Cosima’s brow that was creased now. “Alison?” She quirked, looking Delphine, finally, in the eye again. Cosima wanted to be sure she understood, “Like, Mrs. Smith, Alison?”

 

“Oui.” Delphine squeezed Cosima’s hands and smiled. “The enigmatic Mrs. Smith seems to be quite married to the idea of being married.”

 

“Yeah?” Cosima asked.

 

“Vraiment. Which is understandable, of course.” Delphine asserted, her tone dripping with irony. “After all, marriage is the ultimate achievement of womanhood.”

 

“Obviously,” Cosima added, nodding playfully; she twisted her wrists over, effectively drawing Delphine a bit closer to her person. The blonde compensated by moving a half step in Cosima’s direction. “Like, what else are women supposed to do besides meet men’s domestic and physiological needs?”

 

“Exactly,” Delphine smiled, running her thumbs over the backs of Cosima’s knuckles. “It’s not like a woman on her own could leave the bosom her family and be successful or happy on her own?”

 

“That would be unheard of,” Cosima added.

 

“Or, so very lonely,” Delphine smiled. “Resigned to life as a spinster, regretting the choice to ever try to make it on her own. To choose the shape of her own happiness; the home of her heart.” Their words had become increasingly teasing and quiet. Their bodies, eyes and mouths being drawn toward one another.

 

“I’m Wife. Stop there.” Cosima quoted Dickinson back to Delphine again, practically caressing her with their mutual understanding.

 

‘Mmmmmmm.” Delphine moaned appreciatively, content to let those words be the last in their ironic dialogue.   A lush silence hung between them for a few moments until Cosima broke it with a lingering question.

 

“So you came to stay because of Alison.  Is that right?” Cosima probed. Delphine tightened her grip on the brunette’s hands, pulling Cosima even closer to her; so close that is was nothing to lean forward and whisper the truth in Cosima’s ear.

 

“Siobhan invited me because of Alison.” she confirmed, but after a moment’s pause confessed, “but I came to stay because of you.”


	14. Follow Suit

“I love you.” she whispered, though she was uncertain of why. She couldn’t be sure what she was feeling actually, besides a bit bored. Was that it? Boredom. In truth, her mind had been wandering throughout the brunette’s monologue.

 

She held her half empty wine glass suspended above the table, listing it intentionally in the groove between her ring and middle fingers, controlling the depth of the rocking with gentle and near constant pressure from her thumb. She watched the sugars creep up the sides of the glass and then slide, in translucent burgundy sheets, back into the pool of liquid below. As she did so she couldn’t resist the urge to move her tongue against the back of her gums and teeth feeling, sympathetically, the acrid warmth of the liquid against her tongue.

 

When she heard her name as a question through the vivid longing for taste, _Delphine?_ , she forced her mind back to the less singular present tense.  The expectant, hazel eyes that searched her face sought acknowledgement, and she realized that it had happened again. She had absolutely no idea what Phillip had said. _I love you_ she stated as she reached out and ran her fingertips through the short, brown hair at his temple. 

 

She often found herself turning to this holy trinity of syllables when she was stalling or distracting Phillip, and it had made her feel increasingly guilty. Not just because it was a ruse, but because every time she said them she knew she felt them less. The expiry date of her marriage was approaching, and he had no idea, no idea that her need to please him or her father or her friends or society had been replaced by a new need, the need for authenticity.

 

As she stood, holding Cosima’s hands, lips pressed into her hair, whispering truths, Delphine could not help but compare, reflexively though, not intentionally.

 

Phillip was attractive, and she had felt attracted to him, but never like this.

 

Phillip was affectionate, and she had felt affection for him, but never like this.

 

Phillip was charming, and she had felt charmed by him, but never like this.

 

Phillip was desirable, and she had felt desire for him, but never like this.

 

Phillip had never once caused her skeletal system to crumble and her sinews to melt, releasing her muscles into unresponsive, languid things holding her together (ah, but barely).  Cosima did these things to her simply by smiling, or winking, or saying her name. _God how she loved the sound of her name as it fell from Cosima’s lips._ And this feeling, this swelling, warm tingle that started in the center of her chest and spread like fire outward through her shoulders and down her thighs was intoxicating; she wanted it all of the time. She was greedy for it, and yet, she had no idea what to do with it— not in the light of day at least. She had known what to do with the feeling in the still darkness of her hotel room; that had been plain. With no one to know, but herself, instinct had taken over; she would forgive herself mistakes made alone; thoughts gone too far; hands too unskilled; moans too loud.

 

But finding Cosima within the grasp of her hands, the touch of her lips, and the sound of her voice, while again experiencing this fire… well, she simply wasn’t sure of the etiquette and found herself wound in a knot of impulse and insecurity. She should say more. Should she say more? Tell Cosima more? Explain what had happened to her feelings over four short days?  She wanted to do more. To kiss her again. Should she kiss her again?  As she had done the last time they were in the barn? Should she simply wait for Cosima to acknowledge her declaration? To ask a question? To Run?  They all seemed like perfectly viable options as Delphine searched Cosima’s countenance for direction, and then, through the tangled want of unknowable things, Siobhan’s words came back to her.

 

“She’s ready, Delphine,” certainty had imbued the older woman’s utterance, “She will fight you, but she _is_ ready.”

 

It had both exceeded and defied Delphine’s expectations that she and Siobhan were able to speak openly about her blossoming feelings for Cosima, and while sharing a pleasant stroll along one of the most beautiful rivers Delphine had ever seen.  On the one hand it had been Siobhan who observed, inquired about, and glowed at the idea Delphine’s care for her daughter, emboldening Delphine to imagine that her unexpected visit might be an opportunity to understand more about Siobhan’s well wishes. On the other hand, was this the sort of care a mother might wish for her daughter? To be loved by a woman? Desired by a woman? Delphine wondered how Siobhan, or Donnie and Paul for that matter, might actually receive her as a potential… suitor.  Was that the right word? Would she be allowed to simply appropriate the language and roles of heterosexual courtship rituals, even though her gender would tend to make her the de facto object rather than the agent of such ceremony?

 

Delphine had been considering these questions as Siobhan laid out her rationale for ensconcing Delphine at the Double S.  Alison Smith was a woman steeped in sorrow. Not that most Reno-vations didn’t come with a healthy dose of despondency, but in the sad case of Mrs. Smith, the pain was multifaceted.  You see the woman had discovered after a full two years of trying that she was barren.  And though her husband kissed her on the forehead and told her it wasn’t her fault, she felt his resentment growing deeper the more earnestly she tried to embody the spirit of womanhood in all other aspects of their lives. When he began working late she would wait up for him.  The first time he stayed out all night, she stopped.  She began to take pills to help her sleep and started chasing them with alcohol after she was told on their fourth anniversary that it would be their last.

 

Beverly, his secretary was pregnant, and it was his intention that they would marry as soon as the divorce was final.  When Alison had contacted Siobhan about a stay at the Double S, she had asked specifically to be assured a break from the expectations and condescension of men.  Naturally Cosima seemed the best choice to help the woman feel safe; however, Siobhan had recognized a greater need through her illuminating though limited communication with the Californian.  Alison Smith needed to see herself as something other than an adjunct to the life of a man. She, more than any guest they may have ever welcomed, needed to heal, and Siobhan was ready to double down on Delphine as the cure for the woman’s feelings of inadequacy.

 

“I’d like you to come stay at the ranch Delphine.” Siobhan stopped in their wandering and looked directly at the blonde as she spoke, “save us all the trouble of having to arrange _play dates_.” Siobhan punctuated her joke with a wink. “After the way she responded to you in the car, I am convinced we can reach her, help her. Of course I’d insist you stay with us in the family house.” Siobhan hadn’t exactly asked a question; she had expressed a wish.

 

Delphine, overwhelmed not just by the information she was given about her potential role in the life of another divorcee, but about the idea of forcing her presence on Cosima, who had clearly asked for space, hesitated, stuttering a trifecta of nonsense syllables, equal parts French, English and breath. “I, of course, well…. Je ne c’est…. merde…..uuuhhhfff… I...”

 

“You are hesitating.” Siobhan acknowledged. 

 

“Yes,” Delphine huffed, “I am.”

 

“Can you tell me why?” Siobhan inquired.

 

‘Well, first I understood from my lawyer that I might be in some sort of trouble if I fail to maintain the same residence here until the time of my proceeding in July.” In actuality, Delphine knew full well the impact of a possible move.  Leekie had reiterated several times that the she needed to show stable residence for six weeks or else she would be denied her decree.  In fact it was Cosima whom she had chosen to be her witness. She had already done the math. Having been in town on a few days so far the move would only delay her departure by the same number However, Delphine laid out this concrete argument first, hoping to not betray too much excitement of the idea at spending time with Cosima every single day, and also to preserve an out should it become apparent that Cosima might not want her to stay.

 

“Oh, don’t worry on that front dear, no need to even check out of the Riverside.  We’d love to have you as our guest, and,” she added with affected fatalism, “that way if you find we are not quite your cup of tea, you’ll have a ready retreat.” Siobhan’s wink and smile made it plain once again from where Cosima got her playful and flirtatious disposition.

 

Delphine, smirked at her own naiveté should have guessed that Siobhan might have anticipated that concern. The woman ran a dude ranch. Delphine “I find it hard to believe I would tire of your family,” Delphine responded.

 

‘But you are still uncertain.”

 

“I am,” Delphine’s honesty was all the excuse Siobhan needed.

 

“Ah yes, Cosima.” she nodded in understanding.  “Tell me about your relationship with my daughter.”

 

Delphine laughed out loud, immediately and nervously.  She had not thought this through in any sufficient or specific detail and had no idea how to respond.  “Je suis désolée.; mon Dieu, that is a complicated topic. Perhaps I can tell you a story and then _you_ can tell _me_ about my relationship with your daughter…?” Delphine hinted hopefully.

 

“I am fairly intuitive where my children are concerned,” Siobhan smiles, “so try me. And for goodness sake, let’s sit down, you look like you are about to pass out, dear.”  


Siobhan it seemed was fairly intuitive about French strangers as well. Delphine, indeed, was feeling light headed to the point of dizziness, though she was obviously not physically ill. “Merci, perhaps that is best.”

 

Since they had run out of walking path, and thereby benches, several hundred meters ago, the two took seats on a pair of serviceable rocks along the bank of the Truckee.

 

“Cosima.” Delphine spoke the brunette’s name as if it were a complete sentence.

 

She paused to gather her thoughts, and as she did, a parade of distinct Cosima’s emerged from her memory.  Most were charming, a few were melancholy, and one particularly familiar Cosima, flashed, from across a dreamscape, eyes at Delphine that were dark with desire. The Cosima’s competed for dominance in her perception, and rather than a preferred image emerging, the Cosima’s began to mingle with one another, swirling like spilled paints; it was disorienting and amusing trying to make sense of the new chromatic landscape. “Cosima…” this time there was a question in her tone as she tried to listen to her feelings.

 

“Yes, love.” Siobhan encouraged.

 

‘Cosima is extraordinary.” Delphine blushed; she was surprised by the word’s simple perfection.  As a non-native speaker of English, Delphine attended to etymology in a way most Americans didn’t. The word “extra” Delphine had learned early on in her language experience; it meant the amount of something that is superfluous for the current application or use. For years, it confused her to see it as a prefix, and so the word extraordinary had always bothered her… to be excessively ordinary seemed such an undesirable state of being… even after her father explained that it meant “beyond,” she could never quite make peace with that word, until now. “It is amazing to me how she is at once a part of the world, and some how totally separate from it.”

 

‘You’ll get no arguments from me on that point.” the stunning matriarch affirmed, placing her palms flat of the rock upon which she was seated and pushing herself forward into a glorious sun kissed stretch. “Now tell me what happened, love.”

 

Having decided to begin at the beginning, Delphine took a deep breath and spoke to Siobhan with surprising ease about the Mid-Atlantic heat wave, train cars, coffee for two, omissions, misapprehensions, anomalies, stars, unimaginable darkness, unanticipated longing, protracted embraces and pleas for space after the impulsive crashing of lips.  It was here that Siobhan interrupted, shifting the monologue to a dialogue.

 

“You are saying it was you who kissed Cosima?” shock was the only word to describe her tone.

 

“Oui.” Delphine affirmed.

 

“And _she_ reacted badly?” the older woman inquired

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say badly,” Delphine clarified. 

 

‘That little dickens,” Cosima’s mother muttered under her breath. “I hope you don’t find this forward, Delphine, but but did this happen in the barn by any chance, before dinner?” Delphine could tell her revelation surprised Siobhan for reasons other than its salaciousness.

 

“Oui.” Delphine answered. She had hoped that telling Siobhan her story might lead to confirmation of Cosima’s feelings; it seemed that her gamble had paid off.

 

“And when you were talking on the road— I have to admit Delphine to observing some of your exchange through the kitchen window— what was said?” The blonde had observed at dinner the night before that Mrs. S. was not in the habit of prying, so she answered readily, believing Siobhan was working out a problem rather than being interfering.

 

“She told me she had been hurt by a woman who was not like her, and that I was not like her, and so I should not pretend to feel things I don’t feel.” Delphine remembered the sting of those words, “I wanted to argue with her, but realized that if what I believed to be true were actually true that I could afford the time to respect her wishes and be certain of my feelings for her before asking her to trust me.”

 

“And what are these feelings that you wished to be certain of?” Siobhan asked and again Delphine felt compelled to simply tell the truth.

 

Delphine’s brow quivered almost imperceptibly, “My goodness, I feel suddenly a bit overwhelmed.  I hadn’t anticipated speaking quite so candidly.” Delphine was obviously struggling, so Siobhan took the lead.

 

“Are you in love with my daughter, Delphine?”  Her question was sincere and curious and fabulously freeing.

 

It allowed Delphine the chance to declare, with a smile on her face and tears spilling over the edges of her eyelids, “Yes. I am. I am in love with her.” Delphine trembled with a vibration centered so deep in her torso that it was indistinguishable from the myriad sensations that were being triggered all over her body… “I am in love with Cosima.”

 

Siobhan, who wiped a sympathetic tear from her own cheek, rose and crossed to Delphine; she hugged her hard, and pushed blond curls out from in front of her face. “If I’ve asked to much of you, if this is too new, or too frightening… goodness you must be frightened, Delphine— and here I am asking you to-“

 

“Non, please, I want to do this, Siobhan.  For Alison, certainly, but also for myself.” An emotional silence hung between them, It was not a brief silence, but it was not uncomfortable either, and somewhere in the midst of it Delphine made a decision. “Siobhan, Cosima asked me to wait, not to offer her things I couldn’t truly give, but I have spent a lifetime thinking these very feelings were a joke; a romantic, in the worst way, fantasy. Now here I am, 2,000 miles removed from everything I have ever been, facing the fact that everything I have ever wanted is meaningless without this mythical _someone_ to whom I would give everything, if she would only let me. I’ve found this amazing woman. Mon Dieu. it sounds incredible to say it, but its true.  I have found this amazing woman, Siobhan. And I finally understand. And I don’t want to be apart from her for more than a moment, and I guess what I mean to say is,” Delphine straightened her posture and looked Siobhan Sadler directly in the eye, “I would like to accept your offer to stay at the ranch, and I would also like your permission to court your daughter.”

 

                  The smile on the older woman’s face was so genuine it was all the answer Delphine needed.  “Unless you think it is too soon; perhaps Cosima is not ready for such an overture after being so hurt.”

 

Siobhan embraced the blonde again, kissing her on the cheek, then holding her at arms length, admiring the radiance that only love can affect, “Oh, she’s ready, Delphine.  She will fight you, but she _is_ ready.”

 

 

Delphine let her eyes and then her mouth find Cosima’s. 

 

Siobhan had been right, Cosima was indeed ready.


	15. When the Day Met The Night

_I came to stay because of you._   Delphine’s voice buzzed like moth’s wings in Cosima’s ear, suddenly and too startlingly close. She shivered at the sensation; it shot through her inner ear and down her spine with a vibration that dissipated as it traveled across her back into undulating waves of pleasure, waking her body in places that usually caused her to panic.  She exhaled consciously to will her body to stay the course, to root her feet to the ground and deepen her connection to the center of the Earth, whose gravity she was depending upon to stop her from floating away,  _or was she melting?_

 

The last vestiges of that long breath had no sooner left her body than a flood of suppressed desire filled the vacuum, creating a gravity of its own.  She had known she wanted this woman from the first moment their eyes had met; she had decided to have her in her own small way in the dining car over coffee.  She had panicked at the thought of more when Delphine had brought their mouths together in exquisite empathy the last time they stood together like this, and she had berated herself for that panic not hours later when she dared to first to hope that a moment like this might present itself again.  And now, the ache of not just four days, but of years, filled her, the ache of self-denial, or self-deception, of pleasure reserved that wanted to be shared.  In the heady draw of Delphine’s presence, she allowed herself finally to experience desire openly, to want with abandon, and when a look of resolve replaced the fleeting hesitation in Delphine’s countenance, Cosima Niehaus pounced.

 

She thrust her hands into the net of blonde curls until they stuck fast, then pulled Delphine’s mouth to her own. She felt the warm slide of hands and arms around her waist; felt them meet at the base of her spine and contract; Delphine pulled their bodies into fuller contact.  Cosima inhaled deeply through her nose so as not to break the seal of their mouths.   She had been so long the object of her own passion that she had forgotten the intoxicating rush of reciprocation.  Delphine’s body, Delphine’s mouth, Delphine’s arms, Delphine’s tongue— now tentatively tracing wet lines across Cosima’s bottom lip— completing a circuit through which current and sensation could flow uninterrupted, making her stronger somehow, taller.  Yet a simultaneous plummeting in her gut seemed to pull her downward into Earth. She had never felt so grounded and so expansive at the same time. 

 

                Cosima could not stop the movement of her feet as they began to walk Delphine back toward the tack wall. She may as well have been pushing Delphine’s entire weight with the will of her tongue alone, which remained gentle yet persistent, but she wanted to press harder, to make Delphine feel the emphatic want she had been suppressing. Cosima positioned Delphine against the knotted wood planks, careful to avoid any protruding bridles or bits.  As the blonde’s back made contact with the timbers worn smooth by time, she heard her name, laced with desire, fall from Delphine’s mouth. _Cosima_. 

 

                The sound caused the brunette to pause. Vision blurry from eyes closed too long against a rush of hormones and endorphins (unrivaled by any she had ever experienced), Cosima had to concentrate in order to focus her eye line on Delphine’s.  The blonde’s dark, hungry gaze was punctuated by a bottom lip held fast between her teeth.  “Shit.” Cosima exhaled in surrender, causing Delphine’s eyelids to flutter as their mouths came back together. Cosima laid the length of her body against Delphine’s.  They explored each other with tongues, lips and  _teeth!_ Cosima was shocked when Delphine nipped at her bottom lip then grabbed ahold and tugged lightly.

 

                Cosima chuckled at her boldness, “Oh yeah?” she offered playfully.

 

                Delphine whispered, “Oui,” as she leaned back in, but rather than claim Cosima’s mouth again, Delphine brushed the chestnut waves aside and let her lips find the warmth of Cosima’s neck. Cosima moaned at the damp warmth of the contact, and shivered when she whispered “Tu es trop belle, Cosima.”  The foreign syllables slid through her auditory nerve and directly into the pleasure center of her brain. Cosima was on fire.  Her hands contracted involuntarily into momentary fists before her fingers stretched out of their own volition aching to touch the center of the woman she had caged between her arms. 

 

She turned her head in the direction of Delphine’s warmth, and whispered, “Wait, wait, wait.” Her tone stretched thin by restraint; Delphine paused in her ministrations to the pulsing flesh under her lips, but held her mouth hovering just above Cosima’s neck. “Delphine, oh my god!” she exclaimed as she rolled her body into the wall so she was shoulder to shoulder with the object of her desire.

 

“What is it, Cosima?” Delphine’s worried instantly that her attempts at sensual expression had betrayed her inexperience. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“Oh my god, no. Umm, not possible. You did everything right. Oh my god. So, so, so right.”  Cosima’s eyes closed, and her voice strained with want.  Delphine smiled at this reassurance, feeling a little smug at her obvious effect on the woman she wished to impress.  “So right, in fact, that I just sort of got hit with a whole lot of feelings at once that I haven’t had for a very long time.” Cosima’s body language was awkward- all twists and angles.  Her eyes, never quite able to find purchase, bounced back and forth from the rafters to the packed Earth at her feet.  “You, Delphine, god. Umm, can we talk?” 

 

“Of course, chérie.” Delphine agreed, quickly, reaching for Cosima’s hand.  “What would you like to talk about?”

 

Cosima had inferred from Emily’s embrace, kiss and touch, that their hearts and minds were as constant as their desire for each other.  She had been wrong about that, and did not intend to leave herself so vulnerable again. “I need to sit down.” Cosima added. Sliding her posterior down the wall to the ground, she simply let her knees bend so they were angled up in front of her and then settled her feet a more comfortable distance apart. Delphine mirrored her posture, finding her balance awkwardly on the way down as she refused to release the hand in her grasp.

 

They sat for a moment, both looking straight ahead, as remnants of the fine dust and hay they had disturbed danced through the shafts of golden light that leaked through barn walls. 

 

“So last night,” Cosima began, “I realized that I’ve been sort of stupid.”

 

“Vraiment?” Delphine inquired, surprised by Cosima’s opening thought.

 

“Well, yeah.” Cosima said.  “I figured out that I’ve been making assumption after assumption about you since before I even met you, and I’m always wrong. And you, you just keep showing up; you just keep surprising me.  So I want to stop making assumptions and ask you questions directly… If that’s OK.”

 

“Of course it is.” Delphine said; her head, resting back against the barn wall, rolled lazily to the left so she could appreciate Cosima in profile. “I would like that.” Cosima could feel the warmth of her smile even though she couldn’t see it.

 

“Excellent.” Cosima affirmed, nodding her head and giving Delphine’s hand a grateful squeeze. Delphine’s grip tightened in response.  “Ok, so when you said you came here to stay because of me, do you mean like this? Like we just were?” Cosima drew a deep breath and committed, “like lovers?”

 

“Or potential lovers, oui.” Delphine added, adoration filling her eyes, “I would not want to presume.”

 

Cosima turned her head now toward the blonde; she rolled her eyes in amused self-deprecation.  “I think we both know you can presume. Delphine.” She smiled back at the blonde.  “I told you how I am. And I told you that I didn’t want you to flirt with me unless you mean it.”

 

“Je me rappelle,” Delphine nodded, bringing the back of Cosima’s hand to her lips and pressing their warmth to her skin. “I remember.”

 

“So my next question, and I promise, I just want to be clear. Do you mean it?” Cosima was earnest, dropping her eyes ever so briefly to the place where Delphine’s lips had just lain, then returning and holding eye contact with Delphine, who responded with no hesitation.

 

“Cosima, I am not going to deny that this is new for me.  But I would like to try to explain something to you. May I try?” Her tone was even and warm, her voice, steady.

 

“Yeah, please.”

 

“The feelings I have for you are unexpected, but not because you are a woman.” Delphine clarified. “I came here, to Reno, not knowing how it might feel to walk in the world on my own, but I knew that walking with Phillip would never make me happy.  I had lead myself to believe that solitude was the best option for a woman who wanted to be more than someone’s prize.” Delphine paused for a moment, not quite sure what to say next. 

 

“You are so much more than something to be won, Delphine.” Cosima assured her.

 

Delphine’s bottom lip found its way back between her teeth and she moaned appreciatively at the words Cosima had offered.  “And then _you_  happened to me. There is an expression in French and don’t know if there is an English translation… but it is to do with lightning striking, and I’ve never been romantic, ma chérie.   But I find I cannot help myself with you.  Cosima, you inspire me; I crave you. I want to be near you constantly, and I am not surprised by those feelings because of your sex—“ Delphine hesitated, before adding,  “in fact that part has been the easiest to understand, I mean as a scientist, the responses of the nervous system are automatic, and to find my own brain and body responding to you, well… as I have said, I have read enough to know that even though this type of attraction is uncommon it is not unnatural. In fact, it feels more natural to me than anything I tried to feel for and with my husband.” At those words both women blushed.

 

“You’re serious aren’t you?” Cosima could not contain her disbelief.

 

“I am.” Delphine smiled, chuckling to herself, “I can’t explain it, but I feel things with you I have never felt for anyone. So you see, I am not surprised I am having these feeling for a woman; I am surprised to be having them at all.” Delphine reached across her body with her right hand (her left was still laced tightly in Cosima’s) to stroke Cosima’s cheek, “What I am trying to say, very inarticulately it would seem is that, Yes, Cosima, when I flirt with you, I absolutely mean it.” Cosima did not need more answer than that; with no barriers between them, they moved together to punctuate Delphine’s confession with a meeting of their lips that was slow, warm, and achingly sincere, until Delphine felt it again. The strike of lightning. Cosima kiss triggered activity in her visual cortex, projecting flashes of light onto the backs of her eyelids, compelling her to open her mouth and seek Cosima’s tongue. They were lost in their regard for each other when a man’s voice came from the barn door, causing the pair to jump apart like teenagers caught on the front porch. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Cosima.” The tall dark man tipped his hat and smiled knowingly toward Delphine “Miss. Cormier, I presume.”

 

“Richard!” Cosima laughed, and half shouted, as she jumped up, a smile breaking across her face.  She bolted across the wide expanse of the barn into the open arms of the tall, dark man who had stumbled upon them.   Delphine rose to her feet, more than a little off balance that this stranger, who seemed vaguely familiar, had known her name.  She sidled in their direction cautiously, not sure of her place in this obviously happy reunion, though she was becoming accustomed to the very large circle of love that seemed to surround the family Siobhan had cobbled together.

 

“Delphine!” Cosima entreated, as this Richard, who had lifted the slight brunette off the ground in his embrace, returned her to the ground. “Come meet my father!” 

 

It took a moment for recognition to set in, but when it did a smile sprung to Delphine’s face. This was the man from the picture in Siobhan’s living room, older now, his jet-black hair made salt and pepper by the years; the man she had held by the lapels and kissed by the three-rail fence. “Of course.” Delphine extended her hands to the man who approached her now. “Enchantée, Delphine Cormier.” The blonde grasped both of the man’s hands an offered the customary French greeting, placing a kiss close to each of his cheeks.

 

“Enchanté,” his voice was ethereal.  Its timbre was low but there was tone in it that also stretched higher than any she had ever heard in a man’s voice.  It remained there, constant as he introduced himself, “My name is Richard Harjo, and I am very happy to meet you.” He returned the style of her salutation, and then held her at arms length. “I understand from Siobhan that you are staying in the house. Welcome Miss Cormier.”

 

‘Please,” she hurried to correct him, unwilling to leave formality in place where none was desired, “Delphine.”

 

“Delphine, then, and please,” he added as he embraced her, “call me Richard.”

 

“Very well,” she stated, and they were agreed.

 

Cosima had watched their introduction with pleasure.  She was intensely proud to call Richard her father, though he had no more claim to that title biologically than Siobhan had to mother, but he had been the father figure in her life for as long as she could remember. All of the siblings called him their father, a fact that brought him great pride.  He was a kind and wise man, a Northern Paiute shaman and a large animal veterinarian.  Siobhan had fallen in love with him the first time he came to teach her about calving; in the hours that they watched her heifer strain to do what was supposed to be natural, she had found that they shared a love of and connection to nature, not surprising given his heritage, but what was surprising was the complete ease with which he regarded her as an equal, never attempting to shoulder more than half of their work, the greatest insult of chivalry. Siobhan treasured him for it.  And even though they had never lived together— neither saw the necessity, his tremendous role in the spiritual lives of his people necessitated his presence in Hungry Valley and, of course the ranch was more than a full time commitment for Siobhan— they had been passionate and committed lovers for over twenty-five years.

 

                “Cosima,” he inquired, “is that horse almost ready to work?”

 

“Yeah, umm, yes. We were just grooming him, but got a little distracted.” she blushed to offer such an obvious understatement, but delicacy seemed in order, for Delphine’s dignity if not her own. “I’ll saddle him up right now. Will you change out the bit on his bridle. It’s in the bag there.” she added, gesturing vaguely toward the grooming bench.

 

“Of course, “ he said, as he ambled toward the bench, and Cosima’s blushed deepened as she heard him murmur, amusedly, the word  _distracted_  under his breath.

 

Delphine stepped back, feeling particularly useless (and still slightly exposed) as the two set quickly about their familiar work. What could she have contributed as Cosima hefted a thick wool blanket over Darwin’s back, followed by a saddle that must have weighed a quarter of the small woman she stood admiring?  How might she assist Richard’s nimble fingers as they danced across the bridle‘s knots and fixtures, releasing the old bit carelessly, then meticulously attaching the new. 

 

Delphine, instead, made her way across the barn to the large birthing pen where she had met Lucy the night before.   She had fallen for the milk cow’s long eyelashes and wanted to check on her new acquaintance. As she approached the pen it was more than clear to her that something was not right.  Lucy was laying down on her side, her tail flipping violently through the hay and smacking against the hard dirt beneath.  What appeared to be some sort of prolapsed portion of the cow’s anatomy protruded from under her tail, covered in liquid and mucus.  Delphine was horror struck by the scene, unfamiliar at all with bovine birthing, she didn’t know whether what she was observing was normal or a sign of distress. “Cosima,” she shouted across the barn, “come quickly. Please.”

 

When Cosima located the point from which Delphine’s agitated voice had emanated, she raced across the barn.   But unlike the blonde, who was frozen in place, pale and worried, Cosima climbed into then pen all smiles and threw herself down in front of Lucy. “Hey girl, “ she kissed the cow between the eyes, and held her massive jaw in her hands, “you ready to become a mama?”  Tears or joy were brimming in the brunette’s eyes as she looked up at Richard who had joined them.  “It’s OK, Delphine; she’s in labor.” Cosima’s tone was all reassurance and Delphine finally exhaled. “It looks like we are having a baby!” she beamed at Delphine and her father before kissing Lucy again. “Hang in there, girl; you are going to be just fine. Your timing couldn’t have been better. Richard just got here and we are going to get you through this.”

 

Delphine looked on with fresh eyes. She had known the love Cosima felt for this animal, but to see it so prominently displayed, so raw, well, it inspired a similar feeling in Delphine, almost instantly. She loved Lucy because Cosima did, and her she made no move to block the tear that escaped as her eyes welled with moisture. ‘What do you think of that Delphine?” Cosima asked. “We’re having a baby!”

 

“It’s wonderful, chérie.” Delphine beamed back at her, overflowing with a love of which she didn’t believe herself capable.


	16. A Place for Everything and Everything in it's Place

Darwin's movements were slow and precise and miraculously intentional. It took Delphine longer than she was comfortable admitting to even begin to understand what she was watching— even though Siobhan stood next to her and Alison explaining Cosima's almost imperceptible signaling.

"She'll go for the white face first," Siobhan had informed them, pointing to an animal near the back of the herd. "Watch her; she'll face him up, with her herd side leg… see there, and move in."

Delphine looked to Alison to see if she had understood the well-intended information any better than she had. The brunette responded with a slight raise of her left eyebrow and vague shrug of the same side shoulder. "Let's just watch," Alison suggested. Delphine turned her curious attention back to the large corral.

As Cosima and Darwin moved slowly through the herd, cows began to flow away from and around them, including the one Siobhan had pointed to; Darwin simply turned in the direction of the off shot animals, still moving deliberately toward the intended target, but with at least five cows between them. The white faced cow, who seemed not to know that he was the target of any particular attention, simply continued in a wide arc toward the opposite side of the pen. Donnie was mounted on Siobhan's mare Belle, short for Captain Campbell's Draw Four, while Paul sat atop his stallion, Miss Mabel's Lucky Seven, or Lucky for short. The boys seemed just to be waiting; for what? The neophyte onlookers could not be certain.

Though Cosima and Darwin had effectively created a mini herd upon which they were focused, the energy of the group seemed to escalate. The threat of chaos hung in the air, palpably, even though the scene itself was eerily calm, almost lazy. "She's going to cut him now," Siobhan shared, "Watch her reign hand and her off herd leg." In fact, Darwin had taken only five slow steps forward; his head may have craned ever so slightly to the right, and yet, somehow, the rest of the cows were now moving around and behind him to join the large group again. The white-faced cow now stood perpendicular to Darwin's fixed gaze and held still.

Alison leaned over and whispered to Delphine, "Is it done; is he  _cut_?" she wondered out loud. It was Delphine's turn to shrug, wide eyed wonder on her face. She had been studying Cosima with a broad but constant gaze, trying to keep her focus wide enough that, should Cosima show any discernable movement, she might notice and be able to attend to it. But try as she might, she perceived only the cessation of the unhurried gait which had brought Darwin between the individual and the herd, seemingly on his own. Alison repeated her query to the older woman.

A wide and satisfied smile broke across Mrs. S's face, "Just watch; the real show is about to start."

Delphine delighted in the sense of anticipation; with eagerness, she turned bright eyes back toward the corral to see what might happen next. The cow's ear twitched. He lifted his right front foot; then stomped it back into the loose dark soil. A tense second of nothingness hung in the air; he swung his head in Darwin's direction. Staring for a moment, he turned his head back front again; looking straight ahead, he seemed to be considering… something. He started cautiously forward, across Darwin's field of vision, making make a move to turn parallel with horse and rider, to angle himself back to the herd. And then the moment exploded!

Darwin sat back on his hind legs and pounced right, in the direction of the cows advance, who instantly changed course— a full reverse, running back toward the riveted on lookers, but no sooner had Darwin's front hooves hit the ground than he cut back to the left as well; inexplicably he managed an almost immediate gallop, heading off the bovine easily, stopping him again in his tracks. The frustrated animal swung again toward the center of the corral and faced Darwin directly. It was a showdown now.

Cosima, whom Delphine had not seen exert any perceptible influence over the horse to this point, leaned back ever so slightly in the saddle and pushed her heels forward in the direction of Darwin's shoulders. At that slight adjustment, Darwin dropped his head and lowered himself almost half way to the ground, locking eyes with the panicked creature; the horse mirrored his target's actions, pitching side to side, the awkward appearance of his legs juxtaposed with elegant agility. Darwin and Cosima countered every move the desperate cow made to evade them, denying his progress and impulse to rejoin the heard. Suddenly, the cow's resolve seemed simply to dissipate. He turned 180 degrees and trotted toward the far side of the corral, where Donnie and Paul circled behind him and drove him through the narrow chute into a smaller pen where Richard was waiting.

Alison whispered softly, "Oh my goodness," while a slack jawed Delphine gasped, "Mon Dieu."

"Now he's cut." Siobhan's admiration for her daughter's work permeated every word, and neither Delphine nor Alison could offer more than strings of superlatives in response.

In her years club riding and attending equestrian events, Delphine had been taught that dressage was the ultimate expression of communication between horse and rider, and while she found she could appreciate the exactness of the display, the performance always seemed disingenuous. The stoicism of the impeccably outfitted rider, whose pressed and polished ensemble offered a perfect echo of the precision of the horse, seemed some how glib. The formality of the spectacle betrayed the most conceited sort of understatement, an arrogance that was at once expected, yet exceedingly vulgar, not unlike displaying the heads of animals as trophies on the wall.

But as Delphine watched Cosima and Darwin work, their symbiosis was awe-inspiring. Cosima held no dominion over her partner; what she wanted he seemed to want to. The slight shift of Cosima's hip, the nudge of her thigh, her rein hand brushing worn leather against his neck, or her low-throated affirmations may have been entreaties… or perhaps, she considered, they simply were the short hand of two bodies that had come to know each other. Her own body warmed at the memory of their recent kiss. How effortlessly Cosima had guided her across the floor; how the warm flesh of Cosima's neck seemed to draw her mouth; unbearably inviting and irresistible. She felt a distinct ache as she marveled at how quickly the strange had become familiar, and she blushed when her aggressive imaginings revealed how much more she wanted to know.

"How do you like me?" Cosima's voice drew Delphine out of her wonderings, and intensified her blush. She relished holding both Cosima's in her consciousness at once: the sensual and passionate woman her subconscious had summoned and the mischievous girl who now slid off of her horse and stood on the other side of the corral fencing.

"Mmmmmm, chérie. I like you just fine. " She arched her eyebrow in response to Cosima's bravado, before she continued, "But I think it was Darwin who did all of the work." She reached out and scratched his wide circular jaw; he turned his head and nuzzled her arm.

"Flattery will get you everywhere with this guy." Cosima said, appreciatively. Ignoring Delphine's jab; celebrating her best friend was always a welcome pass time for Cosima. "and it should," she added. "He is pretty incredible."

'Oui." Delphine agreed and planted a kiss on the velvet of his muzzle.

Cosima repressed her urge to flirt with the blonde and turned her attention to Alison. "Alison, this is Darwin. How did you like his handiwork?"

Alison, who was unaccustomed to large animals of any kind, cautiously reached her hand out toward the gentle beast and stroked his nose. "You two are very impressive; I'm not sure I've ever seen anything quite like that. I didn't know horses could move like that."

"Most people don't." Cosima confirmed. "They are surprisingly nimble when they need to be."

"How did he learn to do that?" she asked, genuinely curious. Her contact with Darwin becoming surer by the second; she moved to stroke and scratch through the wiry hair of his neck, noticing with pointed interest the coarseness of his mane hairs. They had looked so soft as she had watched him from a distance.

"Well, his disposition has a lot to do with it. He's even tempered and doesn't fluster easily." Cosima began to explain before Siobhan cut her off.

"And why is that, kitten?" the older woman asked wryly.

"I guess he was just born that way." Cosima shrugged the question off.

"Or he was raised well, by someone who loves him very much." Her mother corrected.

"Yeah, well, you would know about that wouldn't you?" Cosima's affection for her mother, imbued her playful rejoinder. "But my point is, he wouldn't be nearly as amazing if he hadn't brought so much to the table with him." Cosima added, "I had great raw materials."

"You and me both, kitten." Siobhan smiled, before she turned to walk back to the house. "Enjoy the rest of the show you two."

"Oh, we will; I'm certain." Delphine affirmed.

Alison was not yet familiar with unique and affectionate family that owned the Double S, and her mind stayed fixated on a fact she seemed to disbelieve. "So, Cosima, you trained this horse to do that?" Alison asked searchingly. "You did."

"Well, he is my horse, and, like I said, his demeanor made it easy. Isn't that right boy?"

"I'm sorry; I just never heard of it before. I thought.."

"You thought one of the boys did it…" Cosima extrapolated.

"I know it must seem backward of me, but yes, I did. I'm sorry." Something like shame hung at the corner of her words.

"Hey," Cosima comforted her, "don't apologize. You wouldn't be the first woman to visit us and find her eyes opened to possibilities she had never considered." She hadn't meant to, but her hand reached out for Delphine's, and the blonde grasped it in return. Their eyes met and the warmth of their smiles made Alison look away. She may not have known the facts, but she understood the substance of intimacy. And Cosima's words, meant for her, had some how touched Delphine as well.

Alison turned her attention to Darwin, who turned to face Cosima and sneezed, covering them all in fine droplets of horse snot, effectively ruining the moment, which was not fated to last long had it lingered. As the ladies broke all into peels of playfully disgusted laughter, Paul's voice cut through the air, "Hey,  _Cos_ inova, we're ready for you if you can tear yourself away from your admirers!" His grin spread wider than the horizon when she cut her eyes at him and suggested he was jealous.

"Excuse me ladies," she slid back into an affected charm that first captured Delphine's romantic attention and swung herself into the saddle. She turned Darwin toward the herd. "Duty calls," she added as she took her leave, but then swung her horse back around. "Hey, Delphine!"

"Oui." The blonde answered, quizzically.

"Go check on Lucy. See how she's coming along." Cosima suggested, in an inquisitive tone

"I will, ma chérie, but I am afraid I don't know what I'm looking for." Delphine confessed.

"Well, feet would be a good sign. Look for feet." The brunette smiled broadly as she and Darwin walked back into the herd.

It was a hundred yards or so back to the barn and the calving pen. Alison, who had decided to accompany her new friend on her errand had changed her clothes, looking much like Delphine had her first day in Reno. Having shed her traveling clothes, she wore a casual three quarter length pant and a pink button down shirt; the white canvas shoes on her feet had already gathered a film of tan dust from the dry Nevada earth. "I can see why you decided on boots." she observed as she wrestled her anxiety.

"Oui," Delphine replied. "they are very practical, and they are much more comfortable than I had anticipated."

Since discovering her  _unfortunate condition_ , as her mother called it, control had been Alison's religion. A place for everything, and everything in its place; order; organization; tidiness; cleanliness, godliness. She ironed doilies and the cloth napkins. She bleached the sheets and used newspaper to ensure streak free windows. She pruned wilting bits of the fresh flowers with which she appointed every room. She fired the maid, preferring to ensure her own high standards were impeccably met.  _After all,_ she had told her husband when he asked what she was thinking,  _it's not like I'll have children to occupy my time; I should make myself useful somehow._ He failed to disagree.

So at the present moment she could not decide how best to preserve the pristine whiteness of her footwear. Was she better off knocking the dust off later or trying to brush it off as it accumulated. It seemed either way she ran the risk of permanent stains. She tried to force the debate the back of her mind with small talk.

"Cosima seems, " there was a slight hesitation in her voice, "nice."

"Oui," Delphine replied again, smiling to herself. "She is; trop gentille."

"You two seem…" another hesitation, before she decided on "close."

"C'est vrai?" Delphine responded happily, "Do we?"

"You do." Alison knotted her hands together as they turned into the barn.

"I guess we are," Delphine shared; she wasn't sure how to explain what she and Cosima were, or might be, to anyone, especially a stranger, but Alison's observation warmed her thoughts and she added, "She is the best surprise of my life, and certainly not anything that I ever expected."

Silence ushered them most of the way across the barn to the calving pen. Delphine, prepared this time for the spectacle that likely awaited them, inquired about the strength of Alison's constitution. "I'll be fine," the brunette answered. "I've watched more birthing films than probably any woman in LA county. I am prepared."

But neither woman could have been prepared for the sight that met their eyes as they came to the side of the pen. Lucy lay on her side still, but her tail, which had whipped the ground in the first stages of labor, lay listlessly behind her. Where Delphine had hoped to see feet, she saw only blood, a tremendous volume of blood. Lucy was in distress, and from the look of it so was the calf.

'Mon Dieu," Delphine gasped, she jumped into the pen to Lucy's head and shouted to Alison. "Go get Richard!"

Alison's white shoes stayed glued to the spot. "What's happening? Is the baby alright?" Her lips trembled, but not from terror or panic. The sadness that came over her was palpable and Delphine registered for a moment how she must be receiving this scene; however she had also surmised that they had no time to lose.

The blond woman barked at the frozen form in front of her, "Alison! Go get Richard! NOW!"

Without a word, Alison turned and sprinted out of the barn. Delphine could here the sympathetic grief in her voice as she cried out for the veterinarian. Satisfied that help would arrive soon, Delphine turned her attention back to the frightened creature in front of her. "It's Ok Lucy" as she began speaking, fear shaking her voice, she thought of Cosima and her heart broke. "Richard is coming; he is going to help you." She could not keep the tears from her eyes, grief and fear made her throat feel thick. She moved to hold Lucy's broad head in her lap, and stroked the animal's face, placing kisses between her ears. She offered strangled affirmations to the weary beast, "You're brave. You're loved. Cosima is coming. Richard is coming. They are going to help you." She leaned down and wrapped her arms around the animals neck, rocking back and forth, "Cosima will know what to do. Cosima will know what to do. Cosima will know what to do."

The phrase continued to flow from her like a prayer. She did not stop when she heard the frantic pounding of boots across the yard; she did not stop when she heard Siobhan gasp  _Dear sweet Jesus._  She did not stop when she heard Cosima curse at Donnie to let her go. She did not stop until she felt Cosima's body collapse next to her on the ground, and heard the bewildered question, "Jesus, Delphine, what happened?" Delphine felt utterly useless, all she could offer Cosiima was a lost expression and pitiful, "I don't know."

"Delphine, why don't you let Cosima and I handle this." Richard's voice was kind, but firm.

"Of course," she stammered, and slowly extricated herself from under her charge, allowing Cosima to assume her posture and duties.

Cosima clung to Lucy and asked helplessly, "Richard, what's happening?"

"A breech, most likely; I'll have to check." He was cool, but efficient. Siobhan had anticipated the moment and held long gloves open one at a time so Richard could slip his arms in and ensure that the procedure was sterile. Delphine, Alison, Siobhan, Donnie and Paul all watched on in a silence tempered by hope; each wishing desperately that the scene was not as dire as it seemed. In fact, aside from the sound of Cosima's reassurances, the entire barn seemed to hold its breath as Richard reached into Lucy's birth canal and tried to feel his way to the truth. He adjusted and readjusted his position several times. He closed his eyes and tried to listen to his hands. He withdrew one arm, covered in bright red blood and palpated the cows gut and he continued to explore. When he stood up he peeled off the gloves and looked soberly at Cosima. "The baby is presenting belly first; the placenta is torn away from the uterine wall and she is hemorrhaging badly. Cosima, we need to make a decision."

The implications of his words were clear to the onlookers, but Cosima stared at him confused. "What decision, Richard? Turn the calf; get it out. Help her." He made no move of any kind; he simply continued to hold her gaze. Desperation had clouded Cosima's reason. The current of understanding wound through relays of emotion and disbelief; denial and fear, but finally the agonizing truth connected its dots in Cosima's mind, and when it did her face and voice turned pitiful. Her chin quivered; her brow screwed itself into deep lines, and tears flowed freely from her eyes. "Richard, help her please." she begged, squeezing her treasured friend more tightly around the neck. Weeping, she whimpered "I can't do this; I can't. God please, just help her."

Siobhan launched herself toward her daughter and wrapped herself around the grief stricken girl, and held her for few moments before speaking, "Cosima, kitten. My love. We have to talk about our options. She is yours; and we need to know what you want us to do. Come with me love. Come on." But Cosima didn't budge; she held fast to the animal her head buried in Lucy's thick neck, practically keening in agony.

They were all crying now; the boys stoically, sucking in their cheeks, and swallowing their grief hard. Delphine quietly, wiping away tear after tear, her gaze fixed on the emotional tableau in front of her. Alison wept openly, the sound of her sobs stifled into Donnie's chest, who had put his arms around her and held her tight.

"Kitten, we have to talk. Please come with Richard and I so we can talk." Siobhan's tone was patient, but urgency played at its edges.

Uncertain how she became so bold, Delphine stepped into the pen. She suppressed her grief and summoned all of the strength she could and then spoke gently and evenly to the broken woman in front of her. "It's alright, Cosima. I'll stay with her until you get back."

Cosima finally lifted her head. Her red swollen eyes found Delphine's, a lifeline she wasn't sure she should grab, but Delphine's words hit home. "You will? You'd do that for her?"

"Oui, chérie. For her. For you. Go. I'll stay with her." Delphine laid her hands a top Cosima's reassuringly, "Go."

"Ok." Cosima said weakly, and she kissed Lucy one more time before making to trade places with Delphine once again.

Siobhan, who had stood the make room for the maneuver, grabbed Delphine by the elbow, a look of gratitude imbued her tired features. "Thank you, love." Delphine nodded in acknowledgement, and slipped her legs back under Lucy's neck and head. She grabbed back on and began rocking. "Cosima will know what to do. Cosima will know what to do. Cosima will know what to do."

Once they were a few paces off, far enough to have a private conversation, Siobhan offered sympathetically but realistically, "You know what we have to do." .

"I know." Cosima answered, "but explain it to me again anyway. I need to hear you say it Richard."

The gentle man folded the small woman into his arms and explained, "Lucy will not survive the uterine hemorrhage; the force of labor is bending the calf backward; I can't turn the baby without traumatizing the uterus more and intensifying Lucy's suffering. The kindest thing to do, Cosima, is to put her down and take the baby afterward. If we don't, we could lose them both, but I will not put her down with out your consent."

"She is suffering, isn't she?" Cosima asked, looking up into his kind eyes.

"She is." he replied.

"And she is going to die anyway?"

"She will not survive, Cosima, I am so sorry."

Cosima directed her next question to her mother, "This is the right thing to do isn't it?"

"It is kitten; you know it is."

Finally, she asked Richard. "How?"

"Rifle shot, between her eyes." he answered. "It is quick and kind. I have mine in the truck."

"Ok," Cosima said, "but I'm the one who does it." She set off out of the barn toward Richard's truck, "and will you please get everyone out of here." She added, ice in her voice.

Delphine kept her word; even though Siobhan insisted, Delphine did not leave Lucy until Cosima returned, rifle in hand. When Cosima nodded her assent, she rose and began to walk away, but Cosima grabbed her hand as she passed. "Delphine," the blond stopped and looked into Cosima's despondent countenance. "Thank you," she managed through an exhausted and choked breath. It was Delphine's turn to nod. It was all the response she could manage in the face of what was about to happen.

She braced herself for the crack of the rifle, but made it all the way out to the assembled crowd in silence. Siobhan held onto Richard; Alison still clung to Donnie. Delphine joined the group mirroring Paul's posture; each stood arms folded across their chests, head bowed slightly. They regarded each other in silent acknowledgement; each feeling deeply the sorrow that Cosima had manifested in the barn. Each wondering when it would come; each imagining the struggle Cosima must be having with herself on the other side of the wooden wall ten yards behind them. They were tethered to each other by a thread of empathy stretched taught by anticipation.

The sun had started to set, creating pools of red in the sky, and, as they waited, anxious for sound, it continued its descent. Delphine studied the sky as it slipped lower and lower; the edges of the sunset morphed into oranges and purples; the red color receding with its source. And as the final twinges of crimson slipped over the horizon, a single shot pierced the silence. As its echo rang across the mountains, the day turned to night.


	17. Post Mortem

For weeks she was inconsolable. Her mother sat vigil by her bedroom door, which she would open to no one, and only in the middle of the night, once everyone else lay sleeping, would the whine of stiff hinges and the padding of feet whisper into the darkness proof of life. She ate but little, consuming a few crackers or, occasionally, a few bites of leftover casserole before returning to her room with a large glass of water and a generous pour of bourbon. Her body was exhausted; her heart ached; her mind had become a confused and dull tapestry of half told stories, and, no matter how close she came to sleep, it eluded her, held at bay by the fear of waking and having to remember. It was like hearing the words again for the first time, but somehow, in repetition, they were, infinitely, more cruel. "I'm so sorry Alison; there won't be a child."

Concerned for her health, both physical and mental, they had called a doctor to see her. She reluctantly accepted the pills to help her sleep, but only because her mother's desperation was the echo of her own. She could not continue to be a burden, not when she had already been such a disappointment. Her mind, once rested, throbbed less, reeled less, ached less, and eventually found a certain, but despairing, calmness that framed her waking life. She emerged from the wreckage of her heart and found everything foreign, as if her worldly possessions had been stolen and replaced by exact replicas. She recognized the objects, but felt no connection to them. She preferred to look at magazines, which she did for hours every day, mumbling observations about how precious or smart particular arrangements of furniture might be, or wondering aloud at the perfection of a meringue or the jacket on a roasted potato. Her mother tried to entertain her observations, to start conversations, but Alison no sooner had offered a thought than she was deep in print searching for another. Her mother stopped trying to engage her, and instead continued to look after the house, do the shopping, prepare the meals.

This existence dragged on for weeks, until one day, quite out of the blue, she returned from the store to find Alison upright, her house coat off, her hair perfect, her dress immaculate down to her perfectly polished heels. She wore a porcelain-colored dress, full skirted, with a black print of small Japanese fans; the black cummerbund at the waist added an elegance almost obscured by the short, half apron she wore. She was dusting. Glancing feathers off, through and around every surface that was exposed. Arranging and rearranging knick knacks, stepping back each time to take in the tableau before adjusting one or another by a millimeter.

"What do you think mother? Here?" she inquired, before sliding a milky jade box a sixteenth of an inch to the left, "Or here?"

"I think either is fine darling." Her mother answered almost dead pan, her mental energy consumed by scrutiny; she scanned the room looking for any evidence of what might have affected this sudden vigor. "You're up." she observed finally, unable to masque her surprise.

"Well, of course I'm up mother. There is work to be done if this place is going to be perfect for when Charles comes home." The tone of amused incredulity in her voice implied that her mother as the most bothersome sort of dolt.

Afraid that this metamorphosis was still fragile and therefore unwilling to push her daughter any further, the older woman simply asked, "How can I help?"

"How can I help?" Alison offered into the chaos in front of her. She had run back into the barn with Richard, Siobhan, Donnie, and Paul the moment Cosima had walked out. The shattered woman hadn't spoken or looked back despite her mother's calling out to her. Delphine had followed her friend into the farmhouse. Now the grim business in front of them remained. They needed to remove the calf and hope that the trauma of the last few hours had not compromised its chances for survival. Donnie and Paul had run to Lucy's backside; they attempted to pull her slick legs back and apart to expose her belly, to give Richard a clear field of work. But the creature's almost complete exsanguination and dead weight made the maneuver difficult. The boys struggled to find adequate purchase between the blood soaked appendages and the scarlet hay through which their boots slid.

"Boys, you need to put your backs into it. This calf could asphyxiate before it draws it first breath if we don't get it out." Richard explained.

"Together Gordo! On three! One. Two. Three." Paul counted down and they pulled together, bracing, each one, the outside of his boot against his brother's. It was no use. They made progress that they could not hold, and Lucy's mass fell back on itself as they lost their grip.

"How can I help?" she offered again. For the second time, no answer was made. As Alison watched the ranch hands' focused efforts continually end in futility, a familiar sense of despairing calm poured over her, like water filling a glass. She felt the chill rise through her legs and up her spine, finally muting her hearing and dulling her emotions. The sounds of voices and struggle receded from her consciousness, and her mind turned to loss.

When she had learned she would be coming to the Reno, she found elegance in the allegory. What should happen to her, having failed as a woman, to have fallen so short of what Charles needed her to be? It seemed a fit ending, being cast out of Eden to the desert, to a place as barren as she herself, where nothing could take root, or thrive. And she had been right.

Here she was, in the desert, in a barn, in the wake of death, in the company of people in a desperate race to save a life. She pitied them the sorrow they would feel, the deep sense of purposelessness that would blunt their spirits when they failed. She wondered if, somehow, she had been responsible, if new life could not abide her presence. Resigned to hopelessness, she bowed her head toward the Earth.

How long had her shoe been untied? She bent her knees and gathered the previously pristine, white laces between her fingers. They were brown at the ends with dirt ground into them where they had been walked and stood upon. No amount of scrubbing or rinsing would get that out. They were ruined. The laces at least; she might still salvage the shoes. She crossed the left lace over the right, and swept one end under, pulling the ends to snug her shoe to her foot, and as she pulled, she suddenly became angry. Abruptly and deeply angry.

What was the point of any of this? It all seemed so unfair. So wrong. Cosima's heartbreak, Lucy's death, the struggle unfolding in front of her, her ruined shoe laces. The only thing that might give meaning to any of it, which might justify so much loss, was if, by some miracle, this calf survived. But Alison, who had asked for more than her fair share of miracles, who had prayed ceaselessly for divine intervention, had been forsaken by God often enough to understand that life and death were of little consequence to him. She knew better than to cast her eyes toward the heavens. Instead, she used them to scan the barn. Her gaze darted around the cavernous space, jumping from object to object, cataloging the things she recognized and assessing the utility of the things she didn't. Bridles, bits, brushes, combs, buckets, blankets, saddles, strange mesh sacks, slender rods with long braided leather hanging from the ends. And then she saw it, hanging on a nail on the side of the tack bench: A lifeline!

She thought immediately of Thanksgiving. All they'd need is one good anchor point, and the birthing pen had no shortage of those. She darted across the barn and grabbed the old twisted coil of hemp rope, which always reminded her of suspension bridges and jungles. It was about a half inch thick and rough under her hands, almost painful. Small fibers insinuated themselves into her flesh as she worked to free the loose end.

"Move!" she barked at Donnie and Paul as she climbed into the pen, and pushed between the young men, who immediately balked.

"Hey," Donnie said, as he reached out to grab her by the elbow. "What are you doing?"

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and fell to her knees in the muck and dirt at the backside of the animal in front of her. "I'm trussing a turkey," she answered matter-of-factly, her attention focused on the rope in her hands rather than on the interrogation behind her. Siobhan and the men all watched on as Alison fastened a slipknot into one end of the rope and cinched it down over Lucy's top-side leg. She stood next, stepping back out of the slippery mess she had perched in, to tug hard against Lucy's mass, as if she might drag the poor animal out of the barn single handedly. Once satisfied that knot would hold fast, she walked in an arc around the pen, eyeing the trajectory of the rope and angle of the limp appendage.

"Stop! There. That's perfect." Richard, who had immediately understood her plan, interjected when the angle was just right. Then Alison walked straight back to the nearest fence post and threaded the other end of the rope around it and then and over the top rail. She began to pull, effectively exposing her plan and a small part of Lucy's belly. The idea was perfect, but she was too slight to finish the job.

Understanding her device now, Donnie approached Alison and grabbed the rope from her; Paul moved to the animal's backside. In no time they had positioned her perfectly, with Richard's coaching, and tied the rope off to hold her in place. Alison stepped back out of the pen and walked over to where Siobhan was watching.

"That was very clever, love." she offered to the brunette, who was busy trying to shake off the hay that clung to her hands and legs. It was futile really, the blood, mucus and dirt had combined to make a very effective glue. "I'll go get some warm water and rags," Siobhan suggested, "we'll need them for the calf anyway."

Alison smiled at the older woman, "Thank you."

"No problem, love." And as Siobhan made to leave, she turned briefly back to the younger woman and looked her up and down before observing, "It might be time you got some boots," she added and, with a wink, she was gone.

Alison looked down. The white canvas she had fretted over in the desert dust was now painted in filth. Thick blackish brown stains covered the surface of her shoes while streaks of red glistened through the grime, and yet somehow, she simply could not bring herself to care. She was completely focused on Richard and the incision he had made deep into Lucy's abdomen. It was a lateral incision, like any other Cesarean section, extending from her hip joint below her udder and to the other hip joint. He called for Donnie and Paul to retract her flesh and expose the uterus, which was severely bloated. Blood had pooled in her uterus for hours and as Richard sliced through the outer wall of the organ, it flooded out around his knees. And still Alison stared. She looked through the gore, past the blood searching for signs of life. Siobhan, toting a large bucket of water with rags tucked under her arm, appeared at Alison's side and was horror struck by the sight of Richard whose trousers were now practically saturated. "Dear sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed. She looked away as Richard reached into the body cavity of the animal up to his shoulders; he swung a foot around and braced it against the carcass of the mother and pulled; Donnie and Paul provided counter traction and after a few good tugs, the calf came out, spilling onto Richard's lap, who was knocked back laid flat out on the ground from the momentum; he remained there, prone, exhausted from the effort.

There was a brief moment of tension, as all eyes fixed on the new life in the room, hoping to see it assert its right to exist. First there was only evidence of some particularly labored breathing, and it was unclear to all of them if the strings of bloody mucus cast off from its trembling nostrils were the beginning or the ending of something. The infant's eyes were still shut, not yet ready for the shock of transition from womb to world.

Alison, who was particularly disoriented in this reality and was uncertain how she should be feeling, cast a questioning glance at Siobhan, who started to explain that normally a healthy calf would attempt to try to gain its footing within the first 30 minutes after birth, and that they were looking for evidence of the impulse in this new arrival, but she got only a few words into her tutelage before Paul provided the emotion model that Alison needed.

"Hot damn!" Paul cried, slapping Donnie on the back as he saw the calf's legs begin to attempt to find its footing. The creature rolled and rocked attempting to find traction. Experimenting with very shaky limbs, stepping sometimes on the earth and sometimes on Richard.

Donnie darted over to Alison, who seemed not to notice the blood that covered his hands and arms, and picked her up in the tightest of hugs. "You little genius you!" he beamed at her, hugging her close then pulling back again. Only then did he recognize how close their bodies were pressed together; he backed shyly away toward the calf.

Richard pulled his legs out from under the newborn as Donnie appraoched and rolled away from its tentative efforts at first steps. Choosing to remain seated, he folded his arms over tented knees and looked at Alison with admiration, "Thank you." he said, "This calf is alive because of you."

She in turn, nodded her head, a wide smile across her lips as tears of relief fell freely from her eyes. "You were amazing."

"C'mon now, darlin'. We were all amazing!" Paul grinned, arms wide open, and sidled over toward where Alison stood.

His mother stepped directly in his path, laying both hands flat against his chest. "Do you know what would be truly _amazing_ Paul?" she asked, her tone too sweet. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "If your sister never had to see any of this."

"I know, I know," he said as his head lolled back; he sighed resigned to another hour of difficult labor, and retrieved a canvas tarp from the saddle wall shelf. "C'mon Gordo. Let's get this done." When his brother made no answer, he called again. "Gordo! Hey, we've got one more job to do here."

Donnie, having anticipated the gruesome chore, had picked up the calf and moved him to a freshly hayed stall. He stood now, in front of it, stone still, head cocked to the side. After a few moments he spoke, "Richard. S. Pauly. I think you need to see this," he entreated. His voice wasn't worried, but rather intrigued. They all joined him, even Alison though he hadn't mentioned her by name. It took a moment for each to notice what had caught Donnie's attention, but when they did, each one of them smiled broadly.

"Oh my goodness." Alison offered. "Is he really…?" her question trailed off, uncertain how many more surprises she could handle

"He is, indeed," Siobhan concurred.

"Ya don't see that everyday," Paul added.

"No. You certainly don't." Richard said, appreciatively.

"Should we tell Cosima?" Donnie wondered out loud.

"Let's not," Siobhan answered. "We'll let her see for herself, tomorrow. " Siobhan handed Alison a rag as she dipped hers in the bucket of water she had brought to front of the stall. "C'mon Alison. We'll clean this little miracle up, since his mama isn't here to handle it."

Alison accepted the rag from the older woman who, for a lingering moment, held her hand and her gaze; Alison appreciated the depth of her eyes; it was a quality that amplified both her kindness and her wisdom. She also regarded the men who had stepped away to begin the hard task of cleaning up; they were efficient, but reverent in their unpleasant labor, and finally, she looked at the new life in front of her; she smiled to herself. Maybe she had been wrong about this place; maybe the desert wasn't barren after all. Perhaps it was a proving ground for strength, inhabited by creatures whose will to survive could not be broken, who's vitality was equal parts tenacity and patience.

She dipped her rag into the water bucket, and, as she did, dirt and blood from her hand spread across the surface of the water in a murky halo. She pulled the rag out and wrung the excess water from it. She stepped into the pen where Siobhan was already at work. "I think you are right," she said as she stepped to the calf's flank to clean him, "it's definitely time for some boots."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was Alison's chapter from its inception; I know we all need some Cophine love right about now and I promise it is coming sooner than you might even anticipate. Thanks for making room for all of the women in this story, I am thrilled to be able to tell all of their stories. Thanks to jenna1023 and zephyrlady for kicking around some ideas about this chaptter with me. I am grateful and love ya both!


	18. De Noche Sueño Contigo

There is no right way to suffer.

 

Lucy had suffered at the end of her life; she had suffered the pain of torn tissue and muscles cramped and knotted against the impossibility of her delivery. She had suffered the anguish of a body swelling from the inside out, simultaneously stretching and crushing its own organs.  But, despite the genuine agony she was experiencing, Lucy’s suffering was quiet; it was calm in a way completely foreign to humans who had learned, above all things, to fear pain.  As a beast, however, without ego or self-interest or understanding of life and death, Lucy endured it all with dignity.

 

Acutely aware of her own pain, Alison had sought to avoid it through isolation, alcohol, and, finally, illusory perfection.  Afraid that indulging her sorrow might exacerbate her feelings of uselessness, she insulated herself in an alternate reality, a fantasy where order trumped the chaos of her broken heart.  Her suffering had been self-conscious and insecure.

 

Delphine’s suffering had been theoretical.  She framed and reframed her feelings of disappointment, betrayal, and loneliness with psycho-social constructs until the scaffolding of her understanding produced an intellectual edifice of disillusioned rage.

 

                  Cosima sat, collapsed in a heap next to the bath tub, her frame wedged in the corner between the claw-footed tub and the wall; her head in her hands, her torso convulsed in violent spasms of emotion. She choked out keening cries of despair between the most ragged of breaths.  Her anguish, too great for solitary tears, poured over the rims of her eyelids in sheets of saline.  Her mouth agape in suffering, its tongue tangled taut in the back of her throat tightened her facial muscles squeezing steady streams of saliva out and over her teeth and lips. She drooled glistening strings of spit that stretched out toward the ground before breaking and pooling on the tarnished oak floor upon which she sat. There was no attempt to control it, to curb it, or to corral it.  Cosima’s suffering was raw.

 

They had waited so long for the report of the rifle that they began to imagine it might not come at all. But of course it did, and as the last echoes faded into the distance, Richard broke their melancholy silence, offering clear and urgent directions to Paul and Donnie, who moved swiftly back toward the barn, followed by the rest.  Except for Delphine. She alone stood still, her heart pounding in her chest, waiting for impulse to guide her steps, for the emergence of the same wisdom that had fed her instincts all night, but her mind was too full, too frantic to find its center.  She was, in a word, afraid.  Cosima had been alternately so fragile and so resolved that she did not know what to expect, how to behave, how to comfort, or if her comfort would even be welcome. It wasn’t until she saw Cosima leave the barn and make a beeline for the house, that she found clarity.

 

“Cosima,” she called into the chill of the desert evening. “Cosima.” Her strides were long and even.  Given a flat and open terrain, she’d have out paced the brunette and caught up with her easily. “Cosima!” she called again, but the brunette’s form had already ascended the porch and been swallowed by the darkness of the house. Delphine opened the screen door, it’s whitewashed frame weathered and light in her hand. The worn spring sent the door crashing into the side of the house at even the gentlest of touches, its impact alarmingly loud.  Delphine crossed the threshold into the cavernous blackness and the screen door clattered again, loudly, as it settled back into the doorframe. 

 

The absence of light stopped Delphine in her tracks. Caught fast, straining her other senses against the blinding absence of light, she heard the creak of footsteps on a wooden staircase, followed by the sound of another door latching itself closed.  The blonde felt along the wall until her fingers found the small domed switch cover, a round button protruding from the center; she flipped the bakelite switch.  Yellow light bathed the room, the same light that had felt warm in the genial air of family dinner the night before.  In contrast, its glow tonight felt suddenly sickening, casting pallor too warm and spreading ghastly shadows of fixtures, furniture and flowers across the room.  As Delphine cut a path through the dining room to the base of the staircase, she wondered if sorrow had the power to change the shape of the world.  This house, so open and vibrant, seemed to be mourning right along with its occupants.

 

She ascended the stairs slowly, the sounds of suffering growing louder with the rise of each step.  She walked quietly down the narrow hallway, careful not to intrude on Cosima’s privacy by announcing her presence with footfalls. Sorrow and light leaked out from the edges of the bathroom door, making the long corridor feel more like part of a catacomb than a house.  Stopping in front of the door, Delphine stood silently, raising a hand to lay flat against the plane of the closed door. She closed her eyes, let her head come to rest against the frame, and breathed deeply, allowing her heart to open, to absorb what little of Cosima’s pain that it could.

 

“Cosima.” She whispered against the wooden barrier between them. “Cosima, it’s me.”

 

                  Cosima made no answer; her sobs grew louder at the sound of the blonde’s voice.

 

                  Delphine, one hand still flat along the door, used her other to turn the tarnished brass knob of the bathroom door; she did so slowly, wishing to give Cosima every opportunity to tell her to go if her presence was unwelcome. When the latch clicked out of its slot, Delphine paused and began to inch the door forward on its hinges, which creaked a little, before squeaking, and finally gliding open. Delphine, who had no idea she had been holding her breath, exhaled audibly when she saw Cosima huddle on the ground near the back of the tub. She immediately crossed to the shattered woman and fell to her knees, wrapping Cosima in her arms, before readjusting so that her legs also encircled the brunette, who almost immediately attached herself to the blonde.

 

Cosima’s hands clutched at the shoulders of Delphine’s shirt; she buried her face in the plane of the blonde’s chest, still keening loudly, her tears, saliva and mucus spreading in warm grey blobs through the network of fibers that gave the cloth structure. Delphine simply allowed it, holding Cosima securely, one hand in her hair, the other around her back, placing tender kisses across the top of her head.  She kept her eyes closed, remembering the way she had held Lucy earlier that night, whispering encouragement and promises of help.  There were no words to be spoken now, not yet, not until Cosima could direct the conversation. For now there was just grief, the burden of which Delphine would help the brunette bear until it waned.

 

When Siobhan found them there two hours later, they were still wrapped around each other, settled on the dark wooden floor. Delphine had moved to lean against the wall, Cosima, curled between her legs, her head resting on the blonde’s chest, continued to sob, but only intermittently and much less violently; the once strong, and now impossibly frail, girl was exhausted and half asleep. Delphine looked up at Siobhan, whose smiled reassuringly and signaled for Donnie to come in and scoop Cosima up.  He had changed his clothes and smelled of soap; Cosima wrapped her arms around his neck, and he stood, carefully maneuvering her through the doorway and down the hall to her room.

 

“How are you, love?” the older woman inquired, as Delphine used the side of the iron tub to help her stand.

 

“A little stiff.” She confessed with a half smile and walked with some effort across the room, sliding her left leg, which was dead asleep across the floor to the hallway. She was afraid to ask, but needed to know, “The calf, did it survive?”

 

Siobhan smiled, “Thanks to some quick thinking by our new guest, yes, the calf survived.”

 

“Vraiment, Alison, really?” Delphine voice betrayed her shock.

 

“Really, love.” Siobhan confirmed, “We were all a bit surprised by _Mrs. Smith_ tonight.” She said the name with feigned condescension. “She’s still with the calf now; I doubt she’ll leave his side anytime soon.”

 

“That’s good. Very good,” Delphine observed, “maybe it will help.” She added, casting her glance down the hall toward Cosima’s room.

 

“A little miracle usually does,” Siobhan winked.

 

“A miracle?” Delphine quirked.

 

“You’ll see.” Siobhan smiled. “You can go see now if you prefer.” Delphine trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced once more down the hall. Siobhan could sense her indecision. “Go to her love; I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

 

“Oiu?” Delphine asked.

 

“Go, love. The calf will be there in the morning, and we have all earned our sleep. Especially Cosima.”

 

“If you are sure.” Delphine said, “I really am practically a stranger still, and I wouldn’t wish to..”

 

“Delphine,” Donnie’s soft voice came from behind her. The blonde turned to see him leaning out of the doorway, back lit by soft light from Cosima’s bedside lamp. “She’s asking for you.”

 

“See,” Siobhan insisted, “she’s asking for you. Go, love.”

 

“Thank you,” Delphine said to Siobhan.

 

“We are the ones who should be thanking you, love.  We almost lost her once to grief; wouldn’t talk to anyone for weeks.” Siobhan’s countenance turned serious. “If she is asking for you now, you’d be doing us all a favor by answering.”

 

“Good night then, Siobhan.” Delphine’s half smile was warm and content.  


“Good night, Delphine.” Siobhan’s arm gathered Delphine to her, the embrace was genuine and firm, “Take care of our girl.”

 

Cosima’s room was simply furnished, an iron frame bed with a window to the left, an old wooden bureau that must have been handmade, stood at the center of the right hand wall, and a spindle backed rocking chair sat in the corner, a crocheted afghan laying over its back.  The nightstand and lamp stood just to the right of the bed.

 

Delphine could not tell if Cosima was asleep or not, so she grabbed the arm of the rocking chair and moved it closer to the bed. She watched Cosima’s breath rise and fall under the white sheet and quilt that covered her figure; she lay curled onto her right side, facing away from Delphine and into the darkness of the room.  She reached a hand out to lay on Cosima’s side. She observed it was shaking but could not ascertain why.

 

“Cosima?” she asked quietly so as not to disturb the brunette if she had fallen suddenly to sleep.  “I’m here.”

 

“Mmmhmm.” Cosima acknowledged.  “C’mere.” she added, her words running together with exhaustion.

 

“Ok.” Delphine said, and moved herself from the rocking chair to the side of the bed, she rubbed Cosima’s back for a few moments before her charge spoke again.

 

“No. I mean, c’mere.” And she pulled her left arm out form the covers and reached behind her for the edge of the bedclothes, pulling them backward as far as she could before running into Delphine, who stood and regarded the plane of white linen that had been exposed, as well as the white undershirt and white cotton panties that seemed to be all that was covering the woman who already occupied the bed.  Delphine scanned the room, not sure why she thought that Cosima would still be wearing the dungarees and flannel that she had been sporting all day; she could see the discarded garments folded neatly over the foot rail of the bed.

 

“You want me to lay down with you?” she asked nervously, her eyes drawn back to the small strip of flesh between the undershirt and the panties that lay exposed to her eyes.

 

“No.” Cosima murmured, her hand flopping behind her, “I want you to sleep with me.”

 

Delphine looked away, the blood rising to here cheeks. These feelings had no place in a bed of mourning and she felt suddenly too warm. “Sleep with you, chérie?” she asked nervously. 

 

“Mmhmm, you mmmm mecalm,” Cosima’s words slurred still. “Please, Delphine.”

 

The blonde looked down at her clothes, much of the hay and dirt had fallen off but she was in no condition to get into bed.

 

“Let me go change, Cosima.” Delphine made to leave, but Cosima turned over quickly and caught her by the wrist.

 

“Huh-uh” Cosima grunted.  “Just lay with me. Please. I’m so tired.”

 

Delphine’s eyes rolled to the rafters as she considered the idea, considered removing her jeans and her shirt (but not her brazier), and laying her body along Cosima’s.  She knew the request was intimate, but not sexual, and she was surprised by the pang of disappointment that accompanied that knowing.  Her entire heart should be with Cosima in commiseration, and it was, yet as a woman in the middle of her own discoveries, she could not stop her mind and body from wanting more, despite the horrible timing. She had imagined taking Cosima in her arms, to her bed, and these were definitely not the circumstances she hoped for, but here she was.  She would not abandon Cosima. Though the physical reality threatened to overwhelm her, she would simply ignore it, until she slipped into her subconscious and was able to rest.  Yes, ignore it. That is what she would do.

 

She acquiesced and Cosima rolled back over on her side. Delphine reclaimed her seat in the rocking chair and removed her boots and socks; she stretched her feet and toes, which cracked in new places since her change in footwear. She stood then and loosened the button of her blue jeans, tentatively drawing the zipper down, acutely aware of the sensation of fabric releasing her hips. She stepped out of the still new and slightly stiff material, folding her pants a draping them near Cosima’s at the foot of the bed. The cool night air chilled the parts of her that had been most warm inside of her clothing and she was loath to let that same sensation spread across her chest.  The arms of her shirt were filthy with dried fluids and crusts of mud. She could not keep it on with out creating irritating grit upon the sheets where Cosima was trying to sleep, so her fingers released each button until her front lay completely exposed to Cosima’s back. She inhaled deeply and held her breath, squashing the urge to have Cosima touch her. She slid the shirt from her shoulders and laid it over the bed rail with her pants.

 

She sat for a moment on the side of the bed, aware of the tightening of her nipples under the fabric of her bra.  The desert evenings really were remarkable different, refreshing, where the east could be so stifling.  She was staring at the bureau across from her and decided to investigate. She opened the second drawer down, assuming the top drawers would house undergarments and socks, which seemed to be a rule where bureaus and chests of drawers were concerned. She had guessed correctly. There were several camisole’s in this middle drawer, and she quickly chose one, knowing it would likely be too short, but also knowing that it would infinitely easier to ignore her own desire than if she was pressing her torso into Cosima’s back while almost completely exposed. She pulled the garment on and released her bra, adding it to the pile slung over the iron frame.

 

Satisfied that she was strong enough now to comfort with out want, Delphine finally slid her legs under the covers; she snaked her right arm under the pillow upon which Cosima’s head lay, sliding a pillow next to it over her shoulder for her own head. She used her left hand to pull the covers up and tuck them under her arm. After ward she did not know what to do with her left arm, so she laid it flat to her side, but found that stiff and uncomfortable, so then moved it to rest softly on the small of Cosima’s back, over the blankets of course. 

 

A sliver of warm air separated their bodies under the sheet and quilt, a reality Cosima must have found unsatisfying as she reached out of the blankets again to grab Delphine’s wrist and pull the blonde’s arm around her midsection, holding it close to her chest. This motion pulled their bodies into fuller contact and Delphine marveled at the feeling of being so close to Cosima. Her knees notched behind the brunette’s, her hips nestled against her backside. Her stomach and breasts pressed against the flat plane of Cosima’s back, and her nose now hovered just outside the chestnut waves of Cosima’s hair. Her senses were on overload. Besides the torrent of new sensations she was experiencing all along her body, there was a familiar surge of desire. She felt a throbbing between her legs that made her hips press forward instinctively.   

 

Cosima pulled her arm tighter to her chest when she felt it and placed a warm kiss to the back of Delphine’s hand. She murmured, “Thank you.”

 

“For what chérie,” Delphine managed through her choked breathing.

 

“For doing what I asked.” Cosima answered matter-of-factly.

 

“Of course, Cosima. Anything.” Delphine replied, relieved that Cosima could not read her hesitation, no matter how flattering the cause.

 

It was only a matter of minutes before Cosima’s breath took on a new rhythm. Her inhalations stayed steady but her chest fell quickly on the exhale, too quickly to be consciously controlled.   Delphine was left then, wrapped around the pliant form of the woman she had inexplicably fallen for. She took a moment, now that she was alone, to indulge in Cosima’s body.  She made no move to touch or contact anymore of the sleeping woman than she had been invited to, but rather she let her legs feel the soft skin of those they lay against. Allowed her hips to recognize the roundness of the flesh pressed into them. Allowed her arm to feel the soft weight of Cosima’s breast that lay just above her wrist. Allowed her hand to feel the tips of fingers resting lightly against her palm.  And when she had registered it all, she realized that with very little effort, without even moving, she might place a kiss at the center of Cosima’s back, between her shoulder blades where her hair falling to the side had left exposed flesh. So she allowed herself one indulgence, a tender press of lips to skin that she had no claim to, but craved desperately. Once she withdrew her lips, she too closed her eyes and allowed her breathing to calm itself, though it took longer than she liked as her body was alight with sensation.  Having lain for fifteen very long minutes, caught between longing and compassion, she finally fell asleep and found, through her dreams, some peace.

 

It was several hours later that she awoke to the sound of her name and the glancing of fingers that pushed her golden curls behind her ear.

 

“Delphine.” Cosima’s voice was quiet, entreating. “Delphine.”

 

As her eyelids blinked open, Delphine registered shock. The world always seemed so large upon waking; as her consciousness eased forward through sleep’s tunnel of strangled perception, space, light, and sound would all bloom before her, orienting her to her surroundings. But the sound of her name and the graze of flesh that now lead her out of slumber confused her; she struggled to understand her orientation.  There was something blocking her view, a shadow in the dark, a barely perceptible fluttering movement. The sound of her name.  Close. So close in fact that she could hear the subtle explosion of air against the back of teeth and across lips as the familiar sound of her own name slid through the space between them. Cosima’s face was mere inches from her own, turned over now and facing her, fingers still tenderly stroking her hair. The world, in that moment, felt very small indeed.

 

“Hmmm,” Delphine hummed as she adjusted to the proximity and consciousness. “What is it, chérie?” she inquired sleepily.

 

Cosima’s eyes scanned all of Delphine’s features.  After a long quiet moment, Cosima looked Delphine in the eye. “Lucy died, right?”

 

“She did, mon amour,” Delphine answered, moving her own hand to brush brown tresses over Cosima’s shoulder and then to wipe away the tear that slipped down the bridge of her nose. “I am so sorry.”

 

“And the calf?” came the next question

 

“Alive and well, chérie. Alison is with him.”

 

“OK.” Cosima accepted that explanation without question.

 

"And," Cosima continued, “you're here, with me.” Her fingers, which had been stroking blonde curls behind Delphine’s ear moved; she brushed her back to her fingers up the woman's jawline and then across her cheekbones. "you stayed.

 

“Oiu.” Delphine replied.

 

“Because I asked you to.” It was a statement more than a question. Delphine answered anyway.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Siobhan knows you're here?” Cosima asked, her voice still quiet her thumb moved to trace the length of Delphine’s lower lip.

 

“Oui.” Delphine replied, the shape of the word causing her to press what might have been considered a kiss against the pad of Cosima's thumb. She closed her eyes and took her bottom lip between her teeth. Cosima moved her thumb to follow the length of the blonde woman’s hairline. 

 

“Are _you_ OK?” Cosima inquired tenderly; she finally brought her hand to rest, running it down Delphine’s upper arm to her elbow then finding and weaving their fingers together.

 

“I should be asking you that question, I think, chérie.” Delphine kissed the back of Cosima’s hand lightly before bring it to rest under her cheek.

 

“Yeah. I guess. Maybe.” Cosima’s exhaustion was plain.

 

“Come here,” the blonde said, turning onto her back and raising her arm to gather Cosima to her shoulder.  Cosima nestled against her chest in contented silence. She registered to echo of Delphine’s heart beat and the swell of the breast upon which her head was resting. Her arm spanned the blonde’s body, resting gently over her waist.  After a few moments she broke the silence again.

 

“I didn’t think she would leave me.” Cosima confessed.

 

“There was nothing you could have done, Cosima.” Delphine gave the smaller woman’s frame a firm yet gentle squeeze. “These things simply happen. No one could have guessed.”

“I should have guessed. She was so different after that night. She wouldn’t talk to me in public; avoided me in the evenings and across the entire weekend.  She wouldn’t even go riding with me that day. She just showed up so she could tell me she was leaving.”

 

Delphine’s mind turned over a few times trying to understand the words being spoken.

 

“Who does that, Delphine. What kind of person does that?”

 

“We’re not talking about Lucy are we, mon amour.”

 

“No, I guess we aren’t.” Cosima admitted.

 

“Emily?” Delphine guessed.

 

“Yeah,” Cosima affirmed, “she just left.  But you, Delphine, you stayed.”

 

Delphine’s heart, with out warning or consent, began to beat faster. “Of course I stayed; you were hurting. I don’t want you to hurt. Cosima,” she offered, then placed a gentle kiss at the woman’s hairline.

 

Cosima shook her head against Delphine’s chest.  “I don’t want to hurt either.” she stated, and then settled her body back down to rest against the blonde’s.  “Your heart is racing.” Cosima observed.

 

“Is it?” Delphine feigned ignorance.  The feeling of Cosima against her had stirred memories of passion she had yet to experience, and her presence in Cosima’s bed worked to convince her that those memories might someday be significantly more tangible.

 

“It is.”  she reaffirmed.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Delphine dismissed and pulled Cosima tighter to her and consciously slowed her breath.

 

“I’m sure its something.” Cosima replied, raising up on her elbow to look directly at Delphine as she spoke.  “Are you OK here? Is this too much? Too new? Too confusing?”

 

Delphine’s eyes darkened as she looked into Cosima’s face; there was a look there she recognized, one she had seen before. Memories of the train flooded back. The jolt and shock she had felt the first moment her mind had allowed her to see herself as an object of Cosima’s desire. The first time she had wondered what it might be like to kiss this remarkable woman. Then she remembered it all. The two times they had kissed, the fire she felt. The longing. It was overwhelming, and before she knew what she was doing, she had claimed Cosima’s mouth again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jenna1028 for being the beta to my alpha! hahaha


	19. In the Still of the Night

In pausing to reconsidering everything about her life, Delphine had sacrificed more than a little sleep to introspection, and she had found that in the small hours of the night, when the world was grey and even sound was velvet in texture, her thoughts made her bold, even if she felt more than a little exposed.  Cosima, on the other hand, who had lain awake more nights than she could count considering the limitations of unrequited affection, found these same small hours made her frightened (or was it timid?). No matter the case, in the obscure tranquility of the predawn hours, Cosima was always keenly aware of her own fragility.  It was the collision of boldness with fragility that caused Cosima to push Delphine away once the shock of her advances had worn off.

 

                  “Wait. Wait….” Cosima bowed her head, shaking it slightly against the weight of desire.  Her body was flooded with endorphins, caught between to very distinct impulses, impulses that had become inextricably connected in her psyche. On the one hand, her skin flushed and her mind clouded, heady with want for the woman in whose arms, through such unpredictable circumstance, she lay.  On the other hand, an enormous weight sat in the pit of her stomach, triggering a fear so familiar she couldn’t imagine want without it.

 

                  Delphine, her heart still pounding in her chest, stopped, letting her arms fall limp. The steady sound of her breathing permeated the silence that hung between them.  She struggled for words.  Part of her wanted to apologize. To beg forgiveness for letting her desire trump her intent, but the other part of her could not.  She felt no remorse, and every nerve ending in her body was holding onto the hope that Cosima might reciprocate her very obvious intentions, but after several minutes of listening to her own respiration and feeling Cosima shake just slightly against her body she spoke.

 

                  “Cosima,” she offered as she tried to lift the brunette’s chin, to bring their eyes back together, “I’m sorry… I just thought… after the last few days and what happened this afternoon and … well, this has been very overwhelming for me, I just thought that….” The usually articulate woman grasped for words with alarmingly stilted results, “… but it was silly of me. I’m sorry.” 

 

Cosima, who had actively resisted looking into the blonde woman’s eyes, shook her head again and finally made eye contact. ‘Delphine, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Quite the opposite in fact, it just that I…” she paused, seeking words of her own.

 

“You’re upset,” Delphine finished for her, “I understand, chérie. Sadness can be an impenetrable emotion.” She tried to pull Cosima back down to her chest, resigned to settling back into a tenuous sleep.

 

“No.” Cosima corrected. “I mean, yes, of course, I am sad, but that’s not the problem.”

 

It was Delphine’s turn to experience fear and unbearable gravity in the center of her gut. Had she been wrong again?  Was Cosima reconsidering their flirtation…. reconsidering her? Had her sorrow brought some clarity that had been absent until this moment? “I see,” Delphine stated, when really she didn’t, but she didn’t want to tip her hand and make herself more emotionally vulnerable.  “Tell me more.”

 

“ I don’t want to mess this up.” Cosima confessed.

 

Delphine, uncertain how to respond, remained silent.  She wanted to gather her thoughts before offering any, and she was surprised to find them at the tip of her tongue. “Cosima, I have never wanted anyone the way that I want you. I do not think you could mess this up; I’m certain I could, but I trust you to be patient with me. To show me what to do.” She trembled as she spoke, unaccustomed to such honesty or such desire, and their coexistence overwhelmed her.  “Cosima, I don’t think you understand. I never thought I could feel these things; I thought they were a fiction; a fairy tale made up to keep women complacent. I did not know I could feel so seen by someone, so accepted, and how much that would make me want that person. You. Cosima. I want you, and I’m terrified of losing the chance to know what it feels like to…” she paused briefly before abandoning caution and finishing her thought, “make love with someone.”  


“Even if that someone is a woman?” Cosima pushed back.

 

“Oui,” Delphine answered, definitively.

 

“That’s crazy, Delphine.” Cosima’s tone wasn’t quite dismissive, but it wasn’t kind.

 

“I agree Cosima. It makes no sense. But you are a woman, and you are the only thing I can think about, and those thoughts… Mon Dieu, Cosima, they do things to me.” The blonde exhaled, and blushed a little at the admission.

 

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Cosima asked. Her question was sincere.

 

Delphine considered the question because of its sincerity. “I suppose it did, yes, at first, but not as much as it… excites me.” she confessed shyly. “Cosima, please, let me touch you.” And as she spoke she reached up to touch Cosima’s face; then she let her fingers run down the brunette’s pale cheek, across her jaw, down her neck to her chest. She let her fingers stop before allowing them to caress Cosima’s breast. She was waiting for permission. They both knew it.

 

Cosima, whose eyes had closed under the gentle attention from Delphine’s fingers, grabbed the woman’s wrist and removed it, bringing it to her lips, kissing the tender and warm flesh of her pulse point. “I want you to Delphine. You have no idea how much I want you to.”

 

“Then let me, Cosima, I need you.” Delphine’s whispered words were earnest.

 

Cosima had nowhere left to hide.  She wanted this, but she couldn’t give herself to this woman; the boulder in the center of her chest wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t change it, but in recompense for Delphine’s vulnerability, she at least had to try to explain it.

                 

“Delphine, I’m scared. When I am with you I am happier than I have ever been. You are completely right. I have flirted with you, kissed you and tried to win your affection because it makes me feel alive. Seeing you flush, knowing that I can do that to you with a look or my words… knowing that I can make you feel what I feel here,” she laid her hand flat in the valley between Delphine’s breasts, “and here,” she brought her hands to the sides of Delphine's face. “Seeing the heat in your skin, the smile on you face, the darkness in your eyes… It all makes me feel so perfect; like you and I are in love.”

 

“But if I touch you Delphine, the way I want to, or the way you think you want me to and it goes wrong, or badly or worse, if goes beautifully, but you think better of it later, in the light of day, if you regret it and don’t want me too flirt with you anymore, to bring the color to your body, to make you feel wanted, to kiss you, to make love to you, then I would have lost the only real happiness I’ve ever known, and for what? For the chance to have something that maybe we just can’t have.  Delphine, I’d rather feel alive with you by my side every day for the rest of my life and never touch you, than touch you like that once and risk losing you forever.”

 

Tears were now falling freely from her eyes, she ran her fingers along either side of Delphine’s face, which was melted into an awed regard for the beautiful brunette next to her and she whispered, “You see Delphine, you are not the only one here with something to lose.”

 

And Delphine, who had been listening in wrapt wonder, could not then control her own struggle.  The dam shattered from the force of emotion that barreled forth from the blonde. She smiled through a torrent of tears and placed he palms on either side of Cosima’s pained face. She used her thumbs to brush tears from Cosima’s cheeks; when she could no longer divert the tears because of the dampness coating her digits she brought the smaller woman’s face closer and began to kiss the tears away, savoring the salty warmth of Cosima’s feelings for her.  Cosima closed her eyes, disbelieving that this moment was real. She felt lips at her cheeks, her eyelids, tracing the lines of tears falling for the outside corners of her eyes passed her ears and towards her neck. Delphine was moving her mouth from one side of Cosima’s face to the other, and as she did so, she whispered in her ear, “Don't you know, Cosima? Je t’aime, je t’aime, je táime.”

 

“But it can’t be; can it Delphine,” Cosima whispered, her words betraying awe more than objection. “This is crazy; it’s been days.”

 

“I know,” Delphine whispered back, “But I cannot find any other words for it.”

 

“God, Delphine.” As the mountain of doubt that had been crushing Cosima’s chest began to crumble, so did her resolve to limit the physical expressions of their affection for each other. She pulled her head back, moving her ear away from Delphine’s soft words, seeking instead the softness of lips with her own. Delphine whimpered when she felt the change in direction and intent.

 

“Oui?” she managed through the torrent of passion that flooded her body.

 

“Yes.” Cosima confirmed, then greedily covered Delphine’s mouth with her own again. 

 

For many minutes they indulged in the warmth and softness of each other’s lips and tongues; learning the many ways their mouths might find pleasure in one another. As they kissed, deeply and then tenderly, tracing lips and teeth with tongues, their arms and hands found hair and necks and shoulders to caress and upon which to gain purchase and leverage.  And though Delphine thought she might live forever in the warmth and passion of Cosima’s kiss; she knew she wanted more as well.

 

“Please touch me, Cosima.” She utterred into the darkness. Capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, she took Cosima’s hand and placed it at the band of exposed flesh between the borrowed camisole she was wearing and her own underwear; she guided that hand slightly upward before releasing it. It was an invitation that Cosima gladly accepted.

 

The flesh of Delphine’s stomach was warm under her fingers and palm; soft at first and growing firmer as it slid up over the taller woman’s ribcage. Not wanting to hurry, she avoided the softness above those ribs and ran her hand around to Delphine’s side almost up to her shoulder blade and then traced lightly back down the length of her side in one long slow movement landing at Delphine’s hip.  The woman who had asked for this attention lay almost still;  her body rolled slightly of its own volition under the attention from Cosima’s fingers. She moaned softly.

 

Cosima moved her hand back up, she could see that Delphine’s nipples had tightened under the camisole, and she ached to touch them, but first she allowed the thin fabric to gather up her arm as she slid her hand back upward toward eager and sensitive flesh. She placed a kiss on the plane of Delphine’s stomach, resting her cheek there as her hand found the swell of Delphine’s breast. She cupped the bottom and side of the soft skin before venturing to cover it more fully with her palm. She sighed in pleasure as an erect nub glanced across the sensitive flesh in the center of her hand. She trailed her arm back down to bring the sensitive bundle of nerves between her fingers.  She brought Delphine’s nipple between her thumb and first two fingers. The motion caused a gasp from Delphine that made Cosima’s blood rush to her pleasure centers.

 

The blonde arched into the touch, enjoying the sensation and then suddenly needing to know for herself.  She pulled Cosima up her body again and brought their mouths together. Then, in a move that surprised them both, threw her weight over to roll them so she was perched atop of the smaller woman.

 

“May I …”she asked, looking into Cosima’s eyes.

 

‘Mmmhmm.” Cosima nodded in approval, and Delphine dove in with both hands, copying Cosima’s motions, feeling first the soft flesh of her stomach, then the strength of her ribs, up her sides and back down to her hips before allowing her hands to near the round, soft flesh of Cosima’s breasts.   Here she paused, she asked again.

 

“Oui?”

 

“Yes.” Cosima answered instantly, “yes, please.”

 

The moment she touched Cosima’s breasts she was infatuated with them. The slight weight of them; the negligible effort it took to move or shape one to her hand or will; the change in texture as her fingers moved from the smooth, soft flesh of her breast to the firm and puckering skin of her areolas and nipples instantly demanded the attention of more of her senses. 

 

“May I look at you?” the question was so vulnerable it almost brought tears to Cosima’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, of course, Delphine. Yes.”  Cosima answered. Delphine moved her hands to lift Cosima’s undershirt up over the swell of her breasts.  The blonde woman’s eyes drank in the sight of Cosima’s torso, the jut of her ribs and finally the liquid roundness of her breasts flowing outward from the firm points at the center of each; and once her eyes had had their fill, the craving of her mouth needed to be satisfied.

 

With no motions of Cosima’s to mimic , instinct guided Delphine’s movements. The strength of her want and intuition surprised her as she kissed the center of Cosima’s chest, continuing to cradle the soft flesh in each hand; she then brought her mouth to Cosima’s right breast, letting her slightly parted lips brush over the firm nipple before drawing it into her mouth. She felt with her lips first, the taught rise of flesh, then she allowed her tongue to descend, to let its full length run across the sensitive bud.  It was wholly unique; she had never seen a man’s nipples as objects of sexual pleasure, but Cosima’s breasts drew her; she needed to know what they felt like, how they responded. She flicked her tongue, and Cosima whimpered. She used her teeth lightly; Cosima inhaled sharply.

 

“Mmm, Delphine.” was all the encouragement the blonde needed to move her attention to the other breast and offer pleasure in the same fashion. Delphine found she was ravenous for all of Cosima’s skin. After a few focused moments, she continued to cover Cosima’s chest, neck, ribs and stomach with warm and passionate kisses; her blonde locks tickling Cosima exposed skin, making her shudder even more and causing her to divest herself of her undershirt entirely.

 

After pulling the garment over her own head, she reached down for the hem of Delphine’s shirt and met with no resistance as she moved it up and over Delphine’s blonde curls.  She took the lead then and placed her hands on either side of Delphine’s ribs, She guided the taller woman’s torso up until she was able to reach each of the blonde’s nipples with her eager mouth and tongue. Delphine was on fire; her body melted downward, letting Cosima’s mouth create pressure up into and through her breasts, intensifying an ache that could no longer be ignored.

 

“Cosima.” She exhaled the name, pulling her chest away from Cosima’s mouth and replacing it with her lips.  “I want you to…” she had no words for what she wanted, so she again guided Cosima’s hand, this time between her legs.  And with that motion, she felt Cosima tense underneath her.  The brunette threw her head to the side, attempting to hide her face, but it was more than that. 

 

Despite a lack of sound or sight to confirm her suspicions, Delphine could tell in an instant that Cosima was crying.

 

“Mon amor,” Delphine whispered as she moved off of the smaller woman to lay beside her,  gathering her into a warm and compassionate embrace.  “Shhhhh, it’s alright.” She clasped the woman firmly in her arms, alternately pulling the the small frame snug against her body and using her free arm to slowly stroke slow and soothing lines along her shoulder, side and back. “We can rest now; its been an very long day.” She placed a plethora of kisses along Cosima’s hairline as the brunette wept.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cosima choked out between sobs, “It’s not you I swear; I want you, Delphine, so badly; it’s just…”

 

“Shhhhhh,” Delphine repeated, “you don’t need to explain. I am not going anywhere. Let’s just rest.”

 

                  They lay together, flushed skin warming and soothing them both until Cosima’s breathing returned to normal, and when it did the fragile woman realized that, almost completely, her fear had subsided. Instead she felt safe in the strength of Delphine’s embrace.  It had been years since she had allowed herself a good cry, and it may have been the tears alone that helped her shed the skin of skepticism and self doubt that had long protected her from the type of harm Emily Callahan had inflicted, but she suspected that much more of the credit belonged to Delphine. This woman… on whom she could never have planned.. this remarkable woman, encapsulating her in selfless affection, deserved more than she could give right now, but Cosima resolved in that moment to give what she could in every new moment they spent together.

 

                  ‘Delphine?” she said softly, her breath tickling Delphine’s chest.

 

                  “Oui?” the blonde answered.

 

                  “I love you too.” And with those words, Cosima placed a soft and tender kiss where Delphine’s neck and shoulder met.

 

                  Delphine smiled into the top of Cosima’s head. She hadn’t expected those words; in fact she hadn’t truly expected anything; she had simply hoped. And as the light of dawn began to spill in through the windowpanes, she found her heart and body both surprisingly content.  To have Cosima in her life, laying her arms, in their shared bed was more than enough.

 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to thank my thought partners Jenna1023 and Ladyzephyr in the original post. Thanks to you both for the discussion and the feedback!


	20. The Kindness of Strangers

Adaptability is the key to survival in the desert.  The gopher snake, preferring to hunt during the day in the winter months, becomes nocturnal in the summer, as daytime temperatures soar forcing its prey underground or into one of the millions of crevices suitable for providing shade.  Turkey buzzards work in groups to maximize the scare resources of the desert; soaring close to the ground, an individual might locate a perfectly ripe carcass, but rather than take the food for herself she flies high into the air, finds a suitable current, spreads her wings, and circles, attracting the attention of her group mates, who one by one join in the towering dance. Only when the group is fully assembled will they descend and eat. Sharing so little food among so many, these scavengers, in their most remarkable response to the paucity of their habitat, drop their body temperatures at night, lowering the caloric demand of their existence while at rest. California quail, who have no idea that they are in Nevada, grow quickly from hatchling to adolescent, avoiding ground predators with short bursts of flight as young as two weeks of age.  Even under the ground, deserts plants allow a billowy, white fungus that grows in plumes to colonize their root systems helping them draw water from the oft-parched Earth. 

 

                As she had drifted off to sleep, with Delphine’s arms around her and steady breaths tickling her hairline, Cosima realized that she was tired of merely surviving; she wanted to thrive.   She was ready to climb out of the crevices of feeling in which she had been hiding; she was ready to provide for someone and to be provided for; she had grown weary of flight, and she knew that to truly live, she needed to strip away the emotional fungus that had helped her survive the long drought of feeling she had imposed upon herself. 

 

                The sun rose brilliantly over the Double S the next morning.  A pair of male chukars squaring off in the scrubby underbrush that grew unchecked around the sides of the ranch house displayed their prowess, attempting to subdue one another in feather flailing dust-ups, filling the air with combative calls,  

 

“ _chuk, chuk, chuk!”_

_“Chukar! Chuk!”_

_“Chuk!”_

Cosima smiled as the sound brought her out of sleep. If there was one thing she could relate to this morning it was the desire to win a female.  But as the memories of Delphine’s words, her embrace, her kiss, her hands, her mouth, her breasts, and her longing came flooding back, it occurred to Cosima that maybe she already had.  She began to stretch, luxuriating in the feeling of cool cotton sheets sliding over her still naked breasts. Her eyes closed; she groaned a little, loving the feeling of her body waking up, arching and twisting her spine. When her body relaxed back into itself, she turned, reaching out to where Delphine lay sleeping beside her.

 

A smile stretched across her face, she half mumbled the words, “Good morning,” into the space between them. Her arm, aching to pull the other woman’s body close, reached across the same expanse, but rather than falling onto the warm skin of Delphine’s torso, Cosima’s hand landed on cold and empty sheets. Almost instantly, the smile fell from her face; a lump lodged itself in her throat, and fear, from which she had been mercifully free since waking, filled her veins with ice, her mind with static, and her heart with dread.  She knew better.  She could still hear Delphine’s voice confessing love and desire, asking to be touched. She could still feel the woman’s gentle hands on her sides and her mouth, warm, against her breasts.   She knew she was wanted, and she wanted to trust Delphine, but the memory of being abandoned, the memory that caused her to push Delphine away time and again, had a hold of her heart and her gut. She strained her senses against the sounds of morning and, listening for signs of life in the hallway, or the bathroom down the hall, but her ears were met only with the throaty laugh of the victorious chukar outside her window.

 

She threw her body across the bed, grasping for the undershirt she had discarded the night before, emotion rendering the idea of nudity intolerable. She shook out the forgotten tangle of cotton and pulled it quickly over her head. Cosima shut her eyes tight against the tears that, in direct opposition to both her will and her reason, sprang forward.  She felt weak… on the verge of breaking, and for that she felt stupid, and for that she felt anger.   

 

Delphine was not Emily; she knew it. Delphine had proved it, but her shattered perceptions insisted on trying to cast Delphine in Emily’s role, to infect her hope with sickening doubt.

 

Raging at her broken heart, Cosima jumped up from the bed and paced the room, her cognition at war with her emotions.  Her body seethed and pulsed, a casualty of the battle raging within. She strode in wide arcs around her room, corner to corner. She knew if she could get her  blood moving it might help her body process the adrenaline that jangled her nerves and flooded her stomach with acid.  She focused her breathing as she walked, each exhalation aimed at diminishing the impact of this unwelcome anxiety.  

 

“Good Morning, mon amour.” Delphine popped the door open with her hip, maneuvering a meticulously arranged breakfast tray through the slender entryway.  Her bottom lip lay snugly between her teeth, and she shook almost imperceptibly as she moved in measured steps toward the bed, attempting to avoid any minor catastrophes while en route.  Her attention fixed on keeping the food tray stable, she did not perceive the tension that melted from Cosima’s body as her words floated across the room.

 

 Delphine had dressed for the day in fresh blue jeans and the third of her pearl buttoned shirts; this one was dusty rose in color with chocolate brown piping across the breast and, just below each shoulder, there sat the silhouette of an eagle in the same hue. She set the tray carefully upon the bed, looking quite proud of herself for having disturbed neither a morsel of food nor a drop of coffee on her sojourn from the kitchen. 

 

“I thought you might be hungry.” she explained, smiling warmly in Cosima’s direction.

 

“Hey you.” Cosima beamed, sniffing back the last vestiges of a fear she hadn’t meant to feel and hurtling herself toward the gorgeous creature in front of her. She threw her arms around Delphine’s neck and caught her lips in a searing kiss, almost knocking them both over in the process.  Delphine’s reflexes saved them both as she stepped backwards with one foot, her initial surprise turning into delight and then something warmer as she melted into the supple adamancy of Cosima’s mouth.

 

“Mmmmmm, good morning.” Cosima said, as she relinquished her claim on Delphine’s lips. “I am so, so happy to see you,” she confessed, stealing first another kiss and then a glance at plate of food she had been offered. Two eggs, perfectly poached, sat in a small bowl, a side plate held fresh bread, lightly toasted with a small pat of butter slowly melting into its crevices.   “I can’t believe you remembered how I like my eggs. Thank you!” She made no attempt to mask her delight; her tongue stuck out slightly between her teeth as she sat down on the bed and prepared to dig in.

 

Delphine, who considered taking all of the credit, instead divulged the truth. “While I did remember, chérie, I must confess, Siobhan was already busy cooking when I woke up this morning. Mon Dieu, I haven’t smelled fresh bread in so long; I had to have some. And since she is your mother there was not much I could tell her about your egg preferences that she did not already know.  But” she added shyly, “it _was_ my idea to bring it up to you, if that counts for anything.” 

 

“Counts for anything? Delphine, right now, it counts or everything.” Cosima said warmly, as she broke the yolk of her eggs over the toast; her eyes found Delphine’s before she added, “more than you could possibly know.”

 

“Good,” Delphine replied, enjoying the feeling of intimacy that imbued their gaze.  She was a bit surprised by Cosima’s reaction to eggs and toast, but she was too happy to question it.  Rather, she crossed to join Cosima on the bed, nudging the other woman’s shoulder playfully with her own, “Now hurry up and eat.  There’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Cosima admitted as they stepped off of the porch.

 

“Come, Cosima.” Delphine coaxed, threading her fingers between those of the reluctant woman to her left, but Cosima did not move immediately. She looked out toward the barn and then down at her own feet. Delphine could feel her hesitation, she knew its source, and so she waited for Cosima to decide. 

 

“OK.” Cosima agreed, finally looking up and giving Delphine’s hand a squeeze. “for Lucy.”

 

“D’accord” Delphine agreed, “for Lucy.” and they set off across the yard.

 

As they entered the barn, they could here Donnie talking softy to Alison, who had left the calf’s side for only a few minutes since his birth. She had washed up and changed her clothes; her canvas shoes were a total loss, so she wore a borrowed, and terribly oversized pair of boots that Cosima recognized instantly as she approached as Guillermo’s.  Alison stood inside the calf’s pen; Donnie leaned over the railing. They looked quite comfortable with each other and that made Cosima smile.

 

“Nice boots!” Cosima called as they approached. Upon hearing his sister’s voice, Donnie immediately stepped away from the fencing and walked to his sister, wrapping her up in a warm hug and kissing her on the cheek.

 

“How are you?” he asked quietly as he loosened his grip and looked her in the eye. 

 

‘I’m okay,” she answered, nodding in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. He snuck a glance at Delphine, who nodded confirmation of Cosima’s assertion. “I’m sure I’ll have a few rough moments over the next week or so, but I’m okay right now. I’m trying to take it all in stride.”

 

He stared her down for a minute, apprehension finally giving way to acceptance. “Well, that’s all you can do I suppose.” he observed. “Come on, Monkey, it’s high time you were introduced to Claude?” Donnie pronounced the name with a decidedly American accent, confusing Cosima instantly.

 

“Clod?” Cosima grimaced.  “What kind of name is Clod?” she wondered loud enough to make Alison and Delphine chuckle along with Donnie.

 

“Oh Donnie, “ Alison chided playfully, “you have to say it right.” She turned to Delphine, “Won’t you say it Delphine; it sounds so lovely when you say it.”

 

Delphine, amused by the observation, came up to Cosima’s side and repeated the name in her own accent.

 

Cosima’s concern diminished, but she was still skeptical, “Cloud is kind of girly name for a bull don’t you think?”

 

The trio in her company laughed even harder now. 

 

“Non, Cosima, his name is Claude, c-l-a-u-d-e.” Delphine corrected, but, yes, in French it sounds like _cloud_! Absolument.” she admitted.

 

“Isn’t it perfect?” Alison added, appreciatively.  “He looks just like a _Claude._ ” She did her best to imitate the liquid quality of Delphine’s pronunciation.

 

“Well,” Cosima asserted playfully. “we’ll see about that!”  She smiled broadly and climbed into the pen. In the far corner, under a grey warming blanket, the calf lay slumbering.  As Cosima approached him the three observers cast knowing glances at one another.  “Let’s have a look at you, little guy.” She sat beside him in the hay and scratched the white hair of his jaw, and then at the base of his ears. “Are you gonna wake up for me a little?” she asked. The calf’s ear twitched, and his tail flipped a bit at the end, but his breathing remained steady and deep.  “C’mon sleepy head,” she coaxed, scratching a little harder. Still the calf slept.  “He’s so tired.” Cosima observed to the group, affection dripping from her voice.

 

“He’s also a fighter,” Donnie added appreciatively.

 

‘Yeah?” Cosima quirked, seeing the warm regard Donnie already had for the newborn.

 

“Oh yeah.” he affirmed, “though he had a little help from Alison here. Turns out she’s a bit of a fighter too.” He winked at the new comer, and Cosima couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw Alison blush a little.

 

“Well someone is going to have to tell me that story someday.” she insisted before returning her attention back to the infant in front of her. “Hey buddy, show me some of that fighting spirit.  Let me get a look at you.”

 

As if on cue, the calf’s ear twitched again; he shook his head and sneezed, blowing hay all over Cosima before finally opening his eyes.  Cosima’ laughed, shaking her head and spitting bits of straw out of her mouth. “There you go…” she started to say, but her voice fell off the second she locked eyes with the young animal.

 

“Oh my god,” Cosima dead-panned as she looked into its face.  “No way!!!”  She looked one by one at the others in the room, who all looked back utterly charmed by her reaction. She pulled the warming blanket off of the sleepy bovine to confirm what her dizzy mind was telling her.  She sat for a moment in shock before again uttering the only words she seemed capable of forming, “No way!!  Oh my god!!! No Way!!!!!”

 

“We were all pretty surprised, kitten.” Siobhan added; they had all been so focused on watching Cosima, no one had notice Siobhan and Paul slip into the barn and join them.

 

 “This is unreal.” Cosima still could not believe her eyes. “Delphine, did you know about this?”

 

“Oiu, Cosima.” she affirmed, “I came out early this morning.  I hope you are not upset with me; I wanted you to see for yourself.”

 

“We all did,” Paul admitted. “Kind of softens the blow a little, doesn’t it?” They all knew he was talking about Lucy and watched Cosima’s reaction carefully.

 

                She looked from Paul to the creature in front of her and back to her brother before agreeing, “You know, Paul, you’re right. It actually does, a little.”  A wistful smile played at her lips, which she brought down squarely between the baby’s eyes. “Hello, Claude,” her accent was playfully affected to mimic Delphine’s, “it’s so nice to meet you!” A sly smile slid across half of her face,  “And don’t worry, we’ll teach Donnie how to say your name soon enough.”  Cosima winked impishly at her brother.

 

                “Do you believe in omens, Delphine?” Cosima asked, genuinely curious. “or, like, miracles?”  She twisted bailing wire in a figure eight around a dual pronged thorn on each side of the spliced barbed wire that needed repair.  “That should finish it.”[i] she announced definitively, adding a wary, “Stand back.” She released the ratchet on the fence stretcher.  Even though she had done similar repairs hundreds of times, knowing that Delphine’s eyes were on her made her hyper aware of the tension that threatened to injure one or both of them should her technique have been off. Delphine, who perceived the minimal level of danger and who felt more than confident in Cosima’s competency, did as asked, simply to satisfy Cosima’s caution.

 

                “I’m a scientist, Cosima.” Delphine replied, watching with satisfaction as the repair held fast, “There are no miracles, but I do believe in signs, in a fashion, I guess.”

 

“Tell me more, Delphine.” Cosima insisted, tossing the fence stretcher over her shoulder as they continued down the path.

 

They had been walking the perimeter of the property for almost an hour.  After morning chores, Siobhan refused to let Cosima do any more work. She insisted her daughter rest, but Cosima, insisted she was grown and that work was good for the soul, “You taught me that, S.” 

 

Eventually, they compromised and the older woman sent Cosima and Delphine to look for damage to the barbed wire fencing; Paul swore they were missing more than a few head of cattle. He had fixed a gap in the split rail fencing, but the animals should still have been somewhere on the thousand acre property.             

 

                ‘Well, for example” Delphine elaborated, “about a year ago my Grand-père died.  A few months later I got a letter from my Grand-mère. That letter inspired me to change my life.  She didn’t intend it to; in fact it wasn’t about me at all, but I received it at a time in my own life that made it more meaningful to me.  Does this make sense?” Delphine asked, finally turning to look at Cosima.

 

                “Completely,” Cosima answered emphatically.  ‘And for the record, Delphine, I’m sorry about your grandfather.” Delphine reached into the space between them and grabbed Cosima’s freehand, giving it a grateful squeeze as they walked.  

 

                “Do you?” Delphine followed up a few moments later, “believe in signs?”

 

Cosima didn’t answer immediately; she had expected to have to answer her own question, but she hadn’t quite decided how to present her thoughts.  When she spoke it was intentionally, albeit obscurely,  “the Paiute believe that albino animals are sacred.” she began, “They have serious rules about hunting or harming them.”

 

                Delphine was un-phased by the seeming non-sequitur, “Well, true albinism _is_ very rare.” she remarked, certain Cosima was going somewhere with the dialogue.

 

                “I know,” Cosima added, light-heartedly, “that’s why they have rules.” Delphine, who had picked a sprig of new sage along their path and was holding it just under her nose, rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance. “You mock me, Delphine, but I wonder do you know _why_ the Paiute have these rules?” Cosima probed Delphine’s thinking.

 

                “Superstition or divinity, I imagine,” she responded, “Touched by God, perhaps.”

 

                “See, you would think that right?” Cosima offered, quite animated and pleased that Delphine had been given to this most common misapprehension; she worried instantly, however, that her reaction might seem condescending and she quickly (and needlessly) over corrected, “I mean, not _you_ , you, but the ubiquitous you, all of us… when, as it turns out, that isn’t the reason at all.”

 

                “No?” Delphine was intrigued.  “Tell me more, Cosima.”  Delphine smiled wryly, borrowing the animated woman’s turn of phrase.

 

                “See, albino animals are sacred because they are defenseless.” Cosima explained, “They lack one of the basic adaptations of any species. White coat, red eyes, in any habitat, they stick out like a sore thumb!”

 

                “C’est vrai.” Delphine interjected, nodding in agreement, adding a sympathetic “pauvre petit veau.” as Cosima continued.

 

                “The Paiute would consider it dishonorable to harm, and especially to kill, an animal that is already so vulnerable.” Cosima elaborated.

 

                 

 

 

 

“So, what you are saying is they suspend the predator/prey relationship out of empathy.” she stated, “Is that right?”

 

                ‘Yes!” Cosima replied emphatically, “Exactly!”

 

“Très compatissant.” Delphine observed.  They wandered in silence a few more moments before Delphine felt like compelled to redirect.

 

                “As much as I appreciate the sociology lesson, Cosima, and I do. What, if anything, do Paiute beliefs about albinism have to do with your beliefs about signs?” Delphine reminded Cosima of their original conversation.

 

                “Oh yeah, right. Sorry.”  Cosima apologized, then stated matter-of-factly, “I think Claude is a sign… for me…  about us.”

 

                This statement stopped Delphine in her tracks.  “A sign about us?” she asked. Her curiosity had been piqued; her heart fluttered hopefully. 

 

                Cosima stopped their progress and tossed the fence stretcher down into the dirt. “Yeah.” she confirmed, and turned to look the other woman in the eye. “Delphine, I kind of freaked out this morning.” Cosima confessed. 

 

                The flutter in Delphine’s chest dropped slid into her stomach; she had not noticed anything unusual or unpleasant in Cosima’s mood that could not be explained by Lucy’s death. In fact her favorite memory of the day thus far had been the passionate kiss with which Cosima had greeted her that morning.   “You did?”

 

                “I did,” Cosima explained.  “I’m not exactly proud, because really, Delphine, it was nothing about you at all really. It was way more about _her_ , but when I woke up and you were gone, it’s just… I just… well, I sort of panicked.” Cosima had rushed and stumbled through her thoughts, and then stopped abruptly.

               

                “Merde,” Delphine exhaled, “Cosima, I’m so sorry. I did not even think…”

 

                Cosima stepped toward her, grabbing her hands, “Delphine, stop. You don’t need to apologize. You had no way of knowing, and you were bringing me breakfast for goodness sake!  I knew it was ridiculous and I was trying so hard to not feel what I was feeling and then you came in that door, and I heard your voice, and I saw you with that tray and with that adorable look on your face, and it was like magic.  The fear was just,” Cosima, warmth radiating from her expression paused briefly, “gone. It was just gone, and I wasn’t going to tell you and then we went and met Claude and it all made sense.”

 

                Delphine had gotten so caught up in Cosima’s explanation and affection, she couldn’t help but smile, “What made sense?”  she asked, half laughing.

 

                “You. Delphine.” Cosima said, “You made sense.  Well, we made sense.  I mean, I understood that I didn’t need to protect myself from you, and I’m not saying it will be easy for me, or that I won’t worry, but I don’t want to hide from you either.  I want to learn to trust myself again, to believe what I know, instead of what scares me.” The two women had not broken eye contact since Cosima began speaking and they held it, still, as she continued. “I want you to want me, Delphine.”

 

Delphine’s expression melted into one of desire. “Mon Dieu, Cosima, I do.”

 

“And if you’ll let me,” Cosima continued, “I want to try to love you, for at least the little time we have together.” 

 

Delphine’s heart pounded in her chest as she dropped Cosima’s hands and reached instead for her face.  “Come here,” she whispered into the space between them.  “Come here.”  She drew Cosima’s lips near to her own, placing a tender trail of kisses from one corner of her mouth to the other; in between each, she responded to Cosima with what had become her favorite two word phrase, a phrase she hoped to utter many more times over the course of the summer.

 

 “Yes, Cosima.”  

 

[i]  


	21. Anything Goes

Delphine excused herself just after dinner that evening.  Siobhan had prepared a succulent beef roast with carrots and parsnips, the delicate aroma of which filled the house with savory promise.  The appetizing tang effectively stirred in Delphine a deep craving that momentarily supplanted the other desires that had driven her to distraction all afternoon.  Directly upon the completion of their circuit around the property, Paul and Cosima rode out to find the lost cattle.  Uncertain about the length of her absence, Cosima kissed Delphine goodbye in front of both her mother and brother before lighting into Darwin’s saddle, turning her horse and heading off.  Her boldness both surprised and delighted Delphine.

 

Since the moment her lips had reluctantly left Cosima’s, the tightness behind her navel and the tension that ran the length of her sex demanded Delphine’s almost constant attention.  Unbidden, her visual cortex intensified the ache, providing particularly provocative images that transported the intensely curious woman back in time, positioning her once again on top of her paramour, admiring the swell and rise of her perfectly round breasts. 

 

She had tried, fruitlessly, to ignore the sensation. She volunteered to take Alison into town to purchase some new footwear.  The woman, who had been so reserved upon their first meeting, conversed freely about the events of the previous night. Delphine attempted to allow her new friend’s account of how Donnie, freshly showered and smelling of aftershave, had brought a thermos of coffee for them to share while they sat vigil over the new life to displace her own tempestuous recollections of her night with Cosima. She politely inquired about the details of Claude’s first few hours, even as her mind conjured sensations, the memories of which made Delphine weak.  

 

In the end, it seemed there wasn't much involved in tending to a healthy newborn calf, aside from making sure he was warm and feeding him every couple of hours, and Delphine found she heard much more about Donnie than she did about Claude.   She smiled wistfully and empathetically at the obvious connection the two shared and wondered if this would be a summer of many new beginnings for Siobhan Sadler’s children. 

 

She remembered Cosima’ s words, _if you’ll let me_ , as they pulled back up to the ranch house. She scanned the corrals looking for the smaller woman, knowing that she would let Cosima do anything she desired as long as it meant they could be near one another, but Cosima was no where to be seen.  Darwin’s stall sat disappointingly empty when she went to seek Cosima in the barn.

 

 

Having failed to cool the heat raging in her body through social means, Delphine endeavored to be academically productive, escaping to her room and closing her door.  An iron-framed bed, not unlike Cosima’s, took up the bulk of the space; her suitcase was still atop the bedspread.  It was clearly a guestroom, sparsely appointed. The bed sat closer to the right wall taking up almost its entire length and just far enough removed to make space for a one foot square night side table, whose surface was dominated by a plain wooden lamp with a brown cardboard shade; the only window in the room sat just left of the bed and took up most of the wall. A chest of drawers was centered on the left wall, and a small, coarsely upholstered armchair, which she hadn’t actually noticed until she closed the door, had been placed in the only remaining corner of the room.  The space felt cozy, but not cramped. 

 

Settling into the small chair, Delphine perused her research notes and attempted to mark up a draft of her thesis, which she had hoped might lead to her first published article once she arrived in Berkeley, but the nature of her work was too visceral.  Sex traits of the human organism, even anomalous ones, were suggestive enough that Delphine found herself endlessly shifting her posture in futile pursuit of respite. Whether she crossed her legs, or tucked one underneath her body, or slung one over the arm of the chair itself, her center continued to crawl with sensation, culminating in undulating waves of want for Cosima.  

 

She set her papers aside and busied herself with unpacking, a chore that had been neglected in the chaos of her first evening and night spent at the Double S.  Activity, though not nearly so agonizing as stillness, simply diffused her arousal. She hung what needed to be hung, folded what needed to be folded, and spent extra time arranging her undergarments in the smallest of the bureau drawers. As she did so she could not help but marvel at how great a barrier such thin fabric might be to particular pleasures; she remembered the certainty with which she had grabbed Cosima’s hand and the fire that had compelled her to do so.  Her mind and body maintained their collective focus on the sensations inspired by the fair woman she had come to desire.  

 

She crossed to the window and scanned the horizon, straining her eyes for any sign of movement, any hint of Cosima’s familiar form in the distance, and when she saw none, she felt a tension in her heart that made her longing bittersweet.

 

“Should we be worried?” she asked Donnie and Siobhan as they enjoyed their evening meal. 

 

“Oh goodness, no.” Siobhan comforted her. “These three know these hills like they know their own names. They know where to camp if it comes to it; and Paul slung their bedrolls on when he saddled the horses. They’ll be just fine, dear. Don’t you worry.”

 

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Delphine lied a little, cutting her roasted vegetables into ever smaller pieces.  “I just… I am not accustomed to all of the realities of ranching it would seem.”

 

Siobhan smiled knowingly back at Delphine and added, “She’s coming back, Delphine, and remember, good things come to those who wait.” She punctuated her remark with a wink and Delphine blushed in spite of herself.  

 

She knew as she ascended the stairs that she would wait as long as possible, but the ache she had held at bay for so long was already growing again, and Delphine was prepared to take control of the situation if need be. Her mind had already proved its willingness to push her toward ecstasy.

 

One way or another she would have Cosima tonight.

 

It occurred to her that she hadn’t bathed since before arriving at the ranch and, though she told herself it was in the interest of killing time when truly her motives were plain, she grabbed her toiletries and headed down the hallway.  As she waited for the water to come to temperature, she surveyed her nude form in the mirror above the sink. She had never been critical of her body and it wasn’t insecurity that motivated her now. Rather she simply wondered how another woman, whose body was essentially no different than her own could excite such passion.  She examined her skin, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her abdomen, her hips, her buttocks, her legs and even her hands, studying them closely, running her own fingers across her flesh. Her own body seemed so ordinary to her; but Cosima also had a neck, shoulders, breasts, an abdomen, hips, buttocks, legs and hands, and when Delphine thought of that body, her own responded instantly. Her nipples tightened into firm buds, heat rose into her cheeks, and her sex began to swell. She wondered if Cosima felt these things for her; was she so deeply desired that minutes seemed like hours and separation like punishment?  Was Cosima, wherever she was, wishing they were together?

 

She stepped into the stream of water, letting the warmth relax some of the tension away, but also allowing her mind to ease into her fantasies as well.  She luxuriated in the steam and her own thoughts much longer than she probably should have, but since she and Siobhan were the only ones in the house, she thought she might not be considered rude for doing so.  When she padded back to her room wearing her grey button down pajamas with clam digger bottoms she was quite touched to find that Siobhan had left a small tray on her bed with a cup of coffee, a spoon and small pitcher of cream.  

 

“I remembered you didn’t take sugar.” came the familiar voice from behind her. 

 

Delphine’s heart raced and her smile exploded as she turned to find not Siobhan, but Cosima seated in the corner chair of her tiny bedroom. 

 

“Cosima!” she exclaimed, too loudly as she threw herself in the woman’s direction, kneeling in front of her and grabbing her hands, squeezing them tight. “I did not think you would be back tonight,” she confessed as she stared into hazel eyes. “Siobhan thought you might be out all night.”

 

Cosima brought Delphine’s right hand up to her mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. “When there is so much reason to be home? No way.”  

 

“Did you find the cows?” Delphine asked, amused that she would ever utter such a sentence, and consequently acutely aware of how very different her life had gotten in a few short days.

 

“We did.” confirmed the smaller woman, “and I think they knew they were in trouble.” Cosima winked. “The second they saw us they started heading home.” A roguish grin played at the corners of her mouth as she asked, “How do you like your room?”

 

“It’s very comfortable, “ Delphine answered, simply and sincerely.

 

“You don’t think it is a little small?” Cosima probed, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.  Delphine began to suspect this was not simply small talk.

 

“I suppose it is…” she let her words trail of, leaving the door open for Cosima, who walked right through it.

 

“Because, you know, it’s much roomier down the hall and if you’d like,” Cosima dropped all pretense and looked into Delphine’s eyes, “you could stay with me tonight.”

 

Slowly they closed the gap between their expectant mouths and melted into a tender kiss. Delphine still marveled at the softness of it. It was so different than kissing a man. Phillip’s kiss at its most gentle felt barbaric compared to this. She lost herself in the feel of Cosima’s mouth, allowing the tip of her tongue to flick lightly at its edges. There was so much she wanted in that moment that she lacked the words to express it. She needed to show, not to tell and so the only words she offered in response were, “Yes, Cosima.”

 

The smaller woman’s eyes stayed closed for a moment after Delphine broke their kiss. When she opened them she smiled at Delphine warmly and said, “Good.” She stood up then and helped Delphine to her feet.  “Why don’t you take your coffee down the hall.  I do not smell good and I want to take a shower.” She kissed Delphine lightly once again and said, as she turned to leave, “See you soon.”

 

Delphine, whose face burned in anticipation, tucked her bottom lip under her teeth. “Ciao.” The word floated softly toward Cosima, “don’t make me wait too long, ma chérie.   I have been,” she struggled to find a descriptor that wasn’t too forward, “…missing you all day.”

 

It was Cosima’s turn now to blush. “K.” she answered, and then turned to leave.

 

Delphine sat by the light of a single table lamp; she rocked gently in Cosima’s chair stirring cream, which had long since been incorporated, into the cup of coffee.  She considered texture and temperature.  The smooth, translucent white mug, non-descript, ubiquitous — she had sipped warm beverages out of hundreds like it in restaurants, cafes and dining halls— allowed the heat of the coffee to transfer almost entirely to her finger tips, the rigid molecular structure of glassware absorbing none of the energy the warm liquid cast off in all directions.  She was not inclined to drink the coffee, but enjoyed the aroma as she sat waiting, and Cosima, true to her word, did not make her wait long.

 

“Howdy ma’am.” 

 

Delphine looked to the doorway.  Cosima leaned against it, dressed only in a black tank top, her white cotton underwear and a cowboy hat; she winked in the blonde’s direction and stepped into the room.  Delphine’s breath caught in her throat for a moment; there was nothing pretentious in how Cosima looked.  Playful, certainly, but she had come to Delphine in complete honesty, having made no attempt to augment her allure.  She had no need to; in Delphine’s eyes she was already perfect, exuding an effortless and intoxicating sexuality. 

 

“Hi,” Delphine rose from the rocker and set the coffee aside on Cosima’s chest of drawers. Amused, she sauntered over to where Cosima stood, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her toward bed.  Cosima kicked the door closed as she happily followed,  laughing appreciatively when Delphine removed her hat and tossed it to the corner.  With voracious eyes, the taller woman looked Cosima up and down and then observed, “I feel a little over dressed.”

 

Cosima wrapped her arms around Delphine’s neck and pulled their lips together. She felt her own waist similarly encircled, their bodies drawn into closer contact.  Delphine deepened their kiss, pressing her tongue forward, meeting Cosima’s and sliding against it. Cosima inhaled deeply, moving her arms to run down the length of Delphine’s sides, finding her hips and turning the taller woman to the edge of the mattress. Placing a hand gently into the center of Delphine’s chest, Cosima pressed her backwards until she sat, then climbed onto the bed placing one knee on either side of Delphine.  She whispered reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that when it’s time.”

 

The other woman’s eyes were dark with desire, and she brought her hands up to cradle Cosima’s face. “S’il te plait, Cosima. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

 

“God, Delphine,” Cosima moaned; she grabbed her wrists and gently laid her back onto the bed, pinning her arms to the side, “you are incredible.” She threaded their fingers together and brought their hands next to Delphine’s head, holding them fast and then hungrily kissing the woman beneath her.  She felt a savage breath fill the abdomen of the woman beneath her.  Delphine groaned as she craned her head to the side, exhaling steadily and fully, offering Cosima access to her neck. 

 

“Kiss me.” she insisted, and Cosima brought her lips to the pulsing in Delphine’s throat, opening her mouth and sucking on the sensitive flesh there.  She ran her tongue upward and kissed the small patch of delicate skin directly behind Delphine’s earlobe before taking it into her mouth and sucking. She bit down gently and Delphine’s body exploded with desire. Teeming with want, she inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and drew her hand out of Cosima’s.  She tangled her fingers in her lover’s russet locks, gathering a handful into a loose fist, and coaxing her head back. Cosima looked down into Delphine’s eyes and recognized the same desperate longing that she knew must be present in her own.

 

“Undress me now.” Delphine urged, “I want to feel your hands on my body.”  

 

More than once, Cosima had felt the impulse to check on Delphine, to make certain that she was comfortable, that she wanted this, that she was ready, but the urgency and directness of Delphine’s words inspired Cosima to be bold, to trust not only her lover’s cues, but her own desires and impulses as well. She leaned onto her left arm while her right hand came to work on the buttons of Delphine’s structured cotton top.  The last button released, allowing the fabric to fall open and exposing the creamy flesh of Delphine’s stomach and breasts to the cool night air.  “Mon Dieu, Cosima.” she moaned, “Touch me please.” 

 

Cosima stood up a positioned her body between Delphine’s legs.  She reached under her body for the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Delphine lifted her hips and allowed Cosima to remove them leaving her clad in her underwear alone.  

 

Cosima admired her form for a brief moment; the lamplight from the room cast shadows along her neck and ribs that accentuate the lines of her lithe form. “You are so beautiful,” Cosima remarked, and then held out her hands, which Delphine took, allowing herself to be pulled back up to a sitting position.  Cosima brought Delphine’s arms around her neck. 

 

“Hold on.” she whispered, and when she was certain Delphine had secured a grip, she reached down to Delphine’s knees, hooking a hand under each and then inching them down the backs of her thighs. Cosima bent her knees slightly; Delphine understood the cue and wrapped her legs around Cosima’s waist, allowing the brunette to lift her up off the mattress, supporting and then moving them both together. With Delphine in her arms, Cosima crawled back onto the bed and deftly repositioned them so that when Delphine lay back again her head rested on the cool soft pillows at the top of the bed.

 

Cosima, kneeling widely with each of Delphine’s legs slung over her own , leaned forward until their lips almost touched, “This is a much better arrangement for what I want to do with you.” she whispered softly.

 

Delphine matched her tone, “and what is it that you want to do, Cosima?”

 

With out hesitation, the other woman answered,  “I want to make love with you.”  

 

Before Delphine could even react, Cosima drew her frame upright and removed her tank top, exposing her breasts for Delphine, who instantly reached out to touch them, but she could not quite reach.  Cosima leaned forward allowing Delphine to cup each one in her hands. She moaned as Delphine ran thumbs over already tightened nipples causing them somehow to become even more rigid. Cosima’s eyes closed; she exhaled audibly through her mouth in response to this attention and slid her torso forward further so that Delphine could use her mouth on the sensitive flesh that she had coaxed into such exquisite sensation.

 

“Please.” she sighed. And Delphine was more than happy to oblige.  Completely caught up in the feeling of Delphine’s gentle mouth and probing tongue, Cosima dropped her hips, bring their centers close together. They each moaned as they recognized a heat that was not of their own body. 

 

“Mon dieu,” Delphine whispered, rocking her hips toward Cosima’s warmth instinctively.  Although she had spent hours, days even, pointedly considering, not only Cosima’s gender, but the potential of sex with a woman, neither Delphine’s mind nor her body were prepared for the intensity with which she wanted to feel that heat directly.  She had not expected a woman’s arousal to be so obvious as a man’s, and she paused for a millisecond to take stock of her perceptions. Phillip’s arousal had always felt like a command, but Cosima’s was an invitation. She broke her attention from Cosima’s chest and slid her hands down her back instead, letting her fingertips slip under the waistband of Cosima’s panties and then over firm, round flesh; Cosima immediately responded, divesting herself of the thin, damp fabric.  Delphine removed her own panties at the same time, tossing them over the side of the bed. 

 

“Take me, Cosima,” Delphine begged, reaching out with her legs and pulling Cosima’s sex back into contact with her own.  

 

 “I still can’t believe you are real,” Cosima confessed, and then nestled their hips back together, leaning forward to kiss the desperate woman once again.  “Tell me what you want, Delphine.” Cosima commanded.

 

“I want you.” Delphine replied, covering Cosima’s mouth hungrily with her own and then moving Cosima’s hand between their bodies to cover her swollen and ready sex. Cosima groaned at the obvious need Delphine had for her attention, and it made her feel confident. She quelled the passion of their kiss, so that Delphine might focus on the interaction between hand and body. Cosima pushed her hand down along the swollen outside of Delphine’s body; when she reversed direction, drawing her hand up slowly, she allowed her middle finger to press, just barely, into the warm, wet union between Delphine’s thighs. Both women moaned at the contact, Delphine rolling her hips again obviously wanting more. Cosima repeated this motion, entering Delphine more fully this time and dragging her finger, now slick with heat, up to circle the swollen bud at the top of Delphine’s sex. Delphine’s body moved under Cosima, who dipped her hand down again, wetting another finger and adding it to the rhythm she had set against Delphine’s want.

“Cosima.” Delphine whispered next to the other woman’s ear. “Please do not stop.” She hooked her feet around the inside of Cosima’s calves and rocked against her hand. Having been so desperate for this moment for so many hours, Delphine was not surprise to find herself close to climax. She moved her mouth to Cosima’s, allowing her tongue to create a kiss that echoed the motion moving her rapidly closer to orgasm, and, despite her very urgent need to feel Cosima’s heat with her own fingers, she allowed her body to break first, so that she might focus her energy completely on Cosima’s pleasure next.

 

Cosima kept her fingers pressed gently over Delphine’s throbbing sex until she felt the contractions calm in both intensity and frequency, allowing the recently sated woman’s body to relax into the bed beneath them.

 

Delphine’s eyes stayed closed for a moment; an idiosyncratic crease split her brow. Cosima was uncertain what to think of the look until Delphine chuckled slightly, smiled, and opened her eyes. “That was incredible, mon amour. Thank you.”

 

“You’re okay, yeah?” Cosima asked, scanning Delphine’s countenance for any sign of distress.

 

Delphine captured the hand with which Cosima had brought her to orgasm, studying her fingers; she could feel and smell the remnants of her own arousal on Cosima’s fingertips.  Pausing thoughtfully, when she moved again she brought each to her lips and kissed them. “I am ok, absolument, Cosima.”

 

“Good.” Cosima smiled and placed her own lips to Delphine’s.

 

“But,” Delphine continued.

 

“But?” Cosima inquired.

 

“But I want to feel incroyable.” Delphine continued, rubbing her hands firmly across Cosima’s shoulders, and then rolling them over so she was once again on top of the enchanting woman who had given her such pleasure, “and I am afraid that that will not happen until I can taste you, chérie.”

 

Cosima’s brain pitched and her blood rushed between her legs, intensifying the sympathetic ache that Delphine’s climax had inspired.  “Oh my god,” she moaned, “Delphine, you don’t have …” but Delphine laid a gentle finger over her lips to stay her objection.   Cosima stared into Delphine’s earnest eyes; the gaze that met her own was so sincere that she realized she could not censor any impulse this incredible woman wanted to indulge. Instead, Cosima closed her eyes and spread her legs as she reveled in the feeling of soft lips and curls moving in a delicate trail down her torso and edging ever closer to her desire.


	22. Then Why Not Take All of Me

Delphine was wholly unprepared for the sympathetic responses of her body as she made love to Cosima.

 

In her marital bed, giving pleasure, though not a foreign concept, had been a learned experience, a cognitive act. Once she understood the experience, knew where to move, and how to move, and when to move, she was able to relax; to actively participate; to anticipate  outcomes; she could read Phillip’s physiology, his face, his rate of respiration. The rhythm of his thrusts she could predict; he preferred longer, slower strokes punctuated by moments of deep and rapid bucking against her.  Alternating the tempo, his moans always kept pace with his forward thrusting.  When he approached climax he would inhale deeply and exhale in a long grunting groan. That was when he would push himself upward, off of his elbows, supporting his weight with outstretched arms. His rhythm becoming more erratic, quicker in general and more forceful, until finally all of his facial muscles tensed, and he froze completely for a few moments. When the tension holding his features in that telltale grimace released, he would finish with a few more long, emphatic strokes, his legs jerking between hers as his orgasm subsided. He would pull himself out of her, roll over, then out of the bed, retrieving his pajama bottoms and disappearing to the bathroom. He never removed the button down top to his pajamas and rarely removed her nightclothes, simply pulling off her panties and pushing up the hem of her gown.  She lay there while he was out of the room, clenching her muscles to avoid soiling her clothes or her side of the bed and then quickly making her way to the restroom when he exited a few moments later.

 

            Those were always the moments she was most grateful for pharmaceuticals, the moment when she knew a woman’s body was vulnerable; when time might, under other circumstances, give his seed a chance to take root in her body.  

 

            It wasn’t that she didn’t like children or even that she didn’t want one. In fact, she related to children very well.  As a scientist, their natural curiosity delighted her, and she found that, if one could suspend the need to have discourse stay firmly rooted in fact, that conversation with children intensified her own passion for inquiry and added a impulsive sort of creativity to her thinking about her own work.

 

Her own mother, she supposed, had done and adequate job raising her; she was attentive and fair minded and never censured Delphine openly, but rather offered alternative ideas and interpretations of reality, certain her daughter would recognize as prudent, if only she would accept the ways of the world. Delphine weathered these diplomatic negotiations by always acknowledging the _wisdom_ of her mother’s point of view and then proceeding to follow the dictates of her own mind instead.  Given the right circumstances, Delphine had always thought she might rather enjoying rearing a child, if only for the opportunity to parent differently.

 

But to have a child with Phillip… she balked at the idea. A child would crystalize and reinforce the implied limits already placed upon her by her marriage. So she saw it less as a deception and more as an act of self preservation when, having read a recent research article about the use of synthetic hormones — ironically, intended to treat infertility— as an oral prophylactic, she jumped at the chance to obtain a prescription from the campus medical clinic.  It afforded her the chance to control her body and her identity in a way she had only dared hope for in the months leading up to her wedding. And it afforded her the luxury of participating in her wifely duties without worry. There were even times when his attention aroused her. 

 

She was after all a healthy woman; and her body learned to relax through his first dry thrusts, to ignore that initial discomfort and anticipate the subtle arousal that, sporadically at first and then more reliably, would build in her groin and behind her navel as he moved inside of her. The sensation was interesting enough that she began to take time exploring her own body, in solitude, when she was away from the lab and he was at the office, and she used what she learned to maximize the benefit of his weight moving on top of her; she had even achieved orgasm through intercourse a few times, on nights when he had been drinking and so took longer to reach his own ending. His orgasm, his erection, his arousal she accepted; learned the responsibilities and powers she had inherited by virtue of their marriage. She understood his pleasure; she participated in it, but she never drew her own pleasure from his.   

 

            Cosima’s arousal, however, grabbed Delphine by the brain stem and shook her. As she kissed her way down Cosima’s torso, she felt abdominal muscles clench, curl upward, contract, lift hips up into contact with her chest. She felt Cosima’s warmth against the fleshy mass of her breast and her senses ached to know more. She could feel Cosima; she could smell Cosima; she wanted to touch Cosima. Now. Desperately. She lifted her own body slightly and slid her right hand between Cosima’s thighs; her fingers sought the warmth that had gathered there, fumbling briefly through the tangle of curls that framed the other woman’s sex. Cosima was open; heat radiated from her core, all Delphine need do was press her digits forward ever so slightly and the desire that had consumed her for hours might finally be sated. She hesitated briefly, wondering if Cosima’s body would respond like her own, or if there might be some variation in sexual response that would leave her feeling clumsy or impotent.  Sensing Delphine’s momentary trepidation, Cosima slipped her hand down to cover Delphine’s and pressed forward with her.  

 

Delphine needn’t have worried.  The question was not would Cosima’s body respond like her own, but how could the responses of Cosima’s body be echoed so clearly in her own without so much as a hint of direct stimulation?  The moment her finger dipped into Cosima’s wetness, her mind and body exploded. Perception, sensation and reaction ceased to exist as separate cognitive processes; they were inextricably linked in a loop of simultaneity.  And the root of her cognition was Cosima’s pleasure.

 

Her body was equal parts agency and mimicry. She dragged her finger up Cosima’s sex to find her lover’s swollen clitoris, and as she caressed the rigid treasure, an aching between her own legs surged again.  She dipped her fingers back down, gathering wetness along more of their length, then let them glide back up, over and around the sensitive budding of Cosima’s want.  Each stroke magnified her own arousal, sending blood rushing to the epicenter of her longing. Delphine, next, brought her fingers to explore the edges of Cosima’s center, hovering outside and circling gently.  Cosima spread her legs further and Delphine felt her own body open with wanting. And when her fingers finally slipped into the woman beneath her, past the hidden ridges just inside, and onward, to be enveloped by the smooth walls of Cosima’s intimacy, a sympathetic ache pulled tautly against Delphine’s own hidden edges. It was like lightning striking twice, milliseconds apart.

 

As the syllables _my god_ fell from Cosima’s lips, _mon dieu_ met her ears. Delphine moved inside of Cosima, surprised and enraptured by the synchrony of their pleasure.  Cosima’s writhing, her verbal affirmations and the throbbing between Delphine’s own legs urged her on, inspiring in her an audacious obedience to her own sensual impulses.

 

When they had kissed moments before, she had let her tongue learn the rhythm with which Cosima touched her and brought her to pleasure.  She knew in that moment that she wanted to work that rhythm against Cosima’s sex. In that moment she had craved it, but now that her own body was so completely attuned to the responses of her lover, she was ravenous for it.

 

Delphine gently removed her fingers from inside of Cosima, slipping her right arm under Cosima’s thigh and copying the posture on the left. She anchored her hands over the top of Cosima’s hipbones and pulled herself within centimeters of her intent.  The scent of Cosima’s arousal was not unlike her own and yet entirely unique.  She brought her mouth close, hovering just above Cosima’s expectant flesh, gently sweeping aside damp curls and pressing her lips over Cosima’s swollen bud before pulling back and licking her own lips. The wetness she found was slick and delicate, the taste… indescribable. She dipped her head low again and this time allowed her tongue to make direct contact; she pressed it flat against Cosima’s center and dragged upward. The eager woman gasped at the friction and reached down to grasp Delphine’s hands.

 

She exhaled a protracted, “Mmmmmmmm, God.” and then added, “Delphine, that feels so good.”

 

At the sound of her name, warmth surged between Delphine’s legs, and she moaned against her lover; the vibration of the sub-vocal response thrummed against the smaller woman’s sensitive flesh. Cosima moved fingers into Delphine’s messy curls and let her hand come to rest there, clasping Delphine’s mouth to her as she slowly rolled her hips. After a moment, she let her grip fall slack again, but Delphine remained firmly settled with her warm mouth teasing Cosima’s wetness. Delphine rolled her hips against the mattress almost able to feel against her own body the explorations her tongue made of Cosima’s. She used the tip to trace the folds around Cosima’s clitoris, and flattened her tongue to move in long strokes up the length from her opening back to the apex.

 

She was transfixed by the erect bundle of nerves against which friction and pressure both elicited obvious approval. She kissed there, lovingly. Flicking with her tongue, sucking gently, and even closing her lips softly around the excited flesh, just to feel its size and shape. But she was equally mesmerized by the slick center of Cosima’s sex.  She let her tongue explore the threshold and wondered at the erratic contractions of muscles there as she teased, letting her tongue dip in slightly before slowly ascending again. Each kind of attention wound Delphine’s own pelvis into tighter knots as the brunette stirred and moaned underneath her, asking with her body for what she needed so desperately.  Finally Delphine made out a rhythm that seemed to keep Cosima’s excitement at a constant and eager pitch until finally the smaller woman, while Delphine finished a long stroke of her tongue, cried out.

 

“Right there.” the undulations of her hips ceased as she focused on the crescendo of her yearning.  “God! Yes. Right. There.”

 

At Cosima’s urging, Delphine focused the movement of her tongue.  She fixated on the subtle signs Cosima was giving, inexplicably matching her frenzied breath and every single groan.

 

“Don’t stop, baby. God. Please don’t stop.” Cosima whimpered, her voice tight… “God, Delphine… I… “ and then suddenly her body convulsed; her hips bounced, and Delphine froze.  Her tongue still lay against Cosima’s sex, which twitched and jumped under its pressure. She was experiencing Cosima’s orgasm in such an intensely connected and personal manner that she literally could think of nothing else; she was mesmerized by the initial intensity and regularity of the contractions, and then just as awestruck by their increasing irregularity as the climax subsided. When she was certain that Cosima’s passion had settled, she moved her tongue for one last brush against her lover, and Cosima jerked her hips down and to the side.

 

“Oh, no, no, no, no.” she laughed. “I’m way too sensitive for that.” she explained.

 

Delphine swept away the arousal that coated her lips and chin, smiling and still relishing the wave of substance and intimacy that had enveloped her when the dam had broken and Cosima had come for her.  She crawled back up the bed, kissing the center of Cosima’s chest and then the tender flesh of her neck before nestling into the arms of the woman whose taste was still upon her lips.

 

After a few minutes of contented reflection, Delphine started to speak, softly, “mon amour…” she offered into the stillness of the night.

 

“hmmmmm?” Cosima acknowledged, turning to inhale the scent of her lover’s hair and kiss the top of her head.

 

“I…” she began, but pulled up short. She tried again, but still foundered for words, “that was…”

 

Cosima placed a gentle finger under Delphine’s chin and tilted her head up so that their eyes were fixed on one another’s “… mind blowing,” Cosima filled in the blank for her.  ‘The phrase you are looking for is mind blowing.” She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against Delphine’s lips.  “Or at least I hope it is.” she editorialized, looking away, almost embarrassed at her own presumption. “I mean it seemed like you enjoyed it; is what I was trying to say.”

 

Delphine smiled warmly. It was her turn to bring their gaze back into alignment. “Cosima, I enjoyed it more than I can describe. The words you chose were perfect.” They kissed again, gently at first, and then more deeply, but with a calmness and confidence that was entirely new to them. The taste of herself on Delphine’s lips and tongue excited Cosima’s thoughts. She wanted to take Delphine again, to bring her to her peak in the same indulgent manner, but her body, so recently released from exquisite tension was not yet entirely under her own control.  As their lips parted, she breathed deeply, her muscles and sinews settling like liquid back into the bed.

 

“Are you tired?” Cosima asked as Delphine brought her head back down onto her chest.

 

“Not tired.” Delphine observed, “but I am very content. Are you tired, chérie?” It occurred to her that Cosima had had a very long day and might simply need to sleep.

 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever want to sleep again with you in my bed.” she teased as she encircled Delphine in her arms, letting her fingers trail a glancing path along Delphine’s side. “but I’m also just enjoying feeling you close to me.” she added. “Your skin is so soft, and I can feel you along every part of my body. It’s nice.”

 

“It is nice.” Delphine agreed, twining their legs more intentionally together and tenderly brushing her own fingers along Cosima’s ribs; the smaller woman shuddered slightly.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“No,” Cosima corrected, “no, don’t be sorry. It feels nice.”

 

They lay together, lazily tracing patterns on each other’s skin.  Without intending it, their breathing fell into a synchronized rhythm. It was Delphine who yawned first, followed quickly by Cosima. And though neither was tired, they both fell peacefully to sleep.


	23. Things Unseen

She wasn’t certain at first what she had heard, but something startled Delphine out of a very sound and pleasant sleep. She stirred slightly, lifting her head from the soft flesh of Cosima’s breast and listened. Crickets chirped softly through the underbrush; their cadence quickly fused itself with the rhythm of her thoughts, fading into the background of her perception. Aspen leaves shook outside the window, caressed by the cool breeze that rolled down the mountain from the lake. She listened hard, but aside from those two sounds the ranch was silent.

 

            Content to believe that what ever had startled her was of little consequence, Delphine lay her head back down, draped an arm across Cosima’s waist and closed her eyes.  She wondered what time it might be.  It must be past midnight, certainly, but perhaps not too far past. It was comforting to imagine that yesterday lay closer at hand than tomorrow; that Cosima’s touch, Cosima’s pleasure, Cosima’s voice calling her name might not yet be in the past, but still gloriously part of her present.  She considered not going back to sleep at all, to permit herself the luxury of being Cosima’s for as long as possible before the dawn broke and life laid claim to them both. But she was so comfortable, so deliciously present, that her consciousness began to retreat again, allowing her subconscious to insert itself in between her waking and sleeping mind. 

 

            She found herself set her on a staircase; old, wooden and damp with water that ran from some unseen source trickling over the run and down the rise of each step. It was dark, but not blindingly; the grey fog of night allowed her to make out shadows and shapes but not to truly see.  She could hear the water dripping and flowing, babbling like the gentlest of brooks; but still she felt threatened, as if some ominous force, obscured or perhaps even hiding, waited for her just inside the shadows. She craved light. Glancing to the right she noticed the water had saturated the ceiling boards and walls, was dripping at a steady rate into the light fixture and pooling around the lamp base. She knew it was ill advised to trip the switch on the wall, that to do so would likely end in catastrophe, yet she watched as if from a great distance as a hand, her hand, reached out for the small brown button. Her arm shook; her consciousness railed; anxiety ricocheted through her chest, yet she was unable to stop herself from pressing the switch. In slow motion, in close up, she saw her finger contact the center cylinder; saw her joints tighten as she applied pressure; felt the switch give under the weight of her, slide inward until it caught on the mechanism and finally…

 

A scream shot her awake. Again. A scream? Was that the sound that had awoken her before? Was it all in her head? No. There it was again: a high-pitched piercing cry, followed quickly by another. Delphine bolted upright. The sound, sent chills down her spine; every hair along her body stood on end. Her heart pounded in her chest.

 

“Cosima!” Delphine jostled Cosima’s thigh. A cacophony of sound flooded in through the window, voice after voice splitting the night. “Cosima!” she practically shouted her lover awake, jumping out of the bed, locating and pulling on her shirt from the night before, shielding herself from what she could not see.

 

Cosima, startled by Delphine’s distress, sat up too. “What?! Delphine, what is it?”

 

“I’m not certain.” Delphine confessed pulling on her pants and flying toward the window. “There’s screaming; someone is in trouble!” A split second later, a chorus of shrieks punctuated her claim.

 

“Shit!!!” Cosima bellowed and jumped out of bed, tugging on her tank top, then throwing open her dresser drawer. She ripped a pair of Levi’s out of the bureau and practically jumped into them in a single motion.  “Coyotes.” she explained, as she yanked on her boots “and they’re close.”

 

Cosima was out the bedroom door in a flash and flew down the stairs before Delphine could even process what was happening; what Cosima intended to do. Delphine hurried to follow her lover, heart racing. A light flicked on in the front room; when she got to the bottom of the stairs, Delphine saw that Cosima had a shotgun in her hands. She charged toward the front door in long and aggressive strides; she threw it open.  Delphine, frightened, but enthralled, followed her out. She could not bring herself to leave the porch, and called beseechingly after the armed woman who practically disappeared into the blackness. “Cosima!”

 

Coyotes. Delphine could hardly believe Cosima’s explanation. She had heard canine’s howling, even on the hunt, more than once, but the sounds from these wild animals bore no resemblance at all to those sounds.  Their cries were so utterly human, so primal, so terrifying, that Delphine could not fathom anyone running out into the night to face them. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sensation, and when a shotgun blast pierced the air, she added her won scream to those echoing over the hills. 

 

Light began to appear in a patchwork around the yard.  From the guesthouse and the ranch house lamps came on in every bedroom. First floor lights also began to pop on as one by one Siobhan, Donnie, Paul and even Guillermo gathered themselves together and emerged from their respective dwellings. Paul, gun in hand, flew past Delphine to Cosima’s side. He had on a white t-shirt and jeans that hung open like Cosima’s at the waist. She was reloading as he spoke.

 

“What was it?” he asked.

 

“Coyotes.” she mumbled back as she reloaded the weapon.

 

“Claude?” he asked, concern in his voice.

 

“I don’t think so.” she sounded sure, “but they were awfully close to the barn. Too close.”

 

“S,” he called in the direction of the house, “we need a light!” and then he turned back to Cosima, “Best we go check.”

 

“Yeah,” Cosima agreed.

 

Siobhan disappeared into the house, reemerging with a large torch light, that Delphine was certain must have run off of a twelve volt battery. She took it to Paul and Cosima, handing it off to her son, then she turned to her daughter.

 

“Are you sure you want to go, kitten?” Siobhan circled her hand around Cosima’s waist. “Just in case?”

 

Cosima looked her in the eye, “I’m alright, S; I’m sure its fine, but would you check in with Delphine?”

 

“If your sure?” her mother answered.

 

“I’m sure, S.” her tone was more than convincing and Siobhan headed back toward the porch.

 

“Gordo!” Cosima called into the night. “Bring your rifle.”

 

“Sure thing, monkey,” his voice came from a direction no one expected. Donnie hopped off the guesthouse porch and trotted across the yard to the main house; he did not make eye contact with Delphine or Siobhan as he passed.

 

“Did he just come from the guesthouse?” Cosima asked Paul, with an admiring sort of question in her voice.

 

Paul shook his head, “Why yes, monkey, I believe he did. That sly dog.”

 

“I thought those two looked awfully cozy.” she replied.

 

When Donnie trotted up beside them, Cosima and Paul both looked at him with mischief in their eyes.

 

“Was your own bed a bit stiff tonight, brother?” Paul chided.

 

“Yeah?” Cosima added, “did you have some trouble sleeping?” She winked at him, knowingly.

 

“Well,” Donnie replied, quick as a whip, checking to make sure his own rifle was loaded, “I figured since I already know your name and Delphine’s and the good Lord in heaven’s, the guesthouse couch might be the easier place to try to get some sleep.”

 

Cosima’s eyes shot wide open, heat rising to her face.

 

“And, I’d like the record to show, that I was completely right!  From the minute I saw you two together, I knew she’d be callin’ your name.” he added boastfully, pulling back the cock on his Winchester single shot.

 

            “Damn it, monkey,” Paul complained, “I missed the show!?!”

 

            “It wasn’t supposed to be a show,” she said low, grinning sheepishly.

 

            Stealing a sideways glance at the porch, noting Delphine’s lithe figure silhouetted by the porch light behind her, Paul whistled appreciatively. “Well, hot damn girl.” he elbowed his sister in the ribs, “Good for you!”

 

            “Very good for you from the sounds of it, “ Donnie ribbed.

 

            “You do understand I’m holding a loaded firearm, don’t cha Gordo?” she teased.

 

            “Come on,” Paul said, a smile still in his voice, “let’s get this over with, so we can all get back to bed.”

 

            From the porch, Delphine and Siobhan watched the siblings move with measured steps toward the barn, the torchlight bouncing along the Earth and off of the barn door as they approached. Delphine held her arms crossed over her chest; her fingers dug into the fabric of her nightclothes and the flesh of her upper arms as she worried her hands in and out of fists.

 

            She was unaccustomed to wildness.  She had spent much of her life in Boston, one of the oldest cities in the United States, which stood as a testament to man’s ability to master his environment.  Originally a port city, Boston sat upon the shores of the Massachusetts Bay, owing much of her prosperity and longevity to the sea. Ocean breezes brined the air across the harbor town, a constant reminder of the presence of the ocean, but a network of sturdy, stone seawalls castellated the shoreline and insulated its inhabitants from the tempestuous Atlantic tides. Enormous tarred pilings plunged through the surface of the water and pierced the coastal shelf, supporting hundreds of acres of dock covered in as many hundreds of acres of warehouses. Through hurricanes and vicious nor’easters Boston’s economy and society thrived.  Past the harbor, into the city itself, over forty square miles of concrete, cobblestones, brick, mortar, and asphalt provided the grid work of industry and domesticity for the over 800,000 inhabitants of the city. What open spaces might be found, even the famous Boston Common, were planned, manicured, and meticulously kempt.  

 

In Nevada nature ended at one’s doorstep; it was a constant presence, insinuating itself into every facet of life and at any moment of the day or night. She envied her hosts their intimacy with the desert; their familiarity with the flora and fauna. As a scientist, she recognized that knowledge could allay all manners of fear, could replace worry with certainty and with helplessness with purpose. Cosima and her brothers knew what they were doing; they understood the meaning of that wraithlike shrieking, a sound that had filled her veins with ice water.  But rather than freezing, as she had done, they had catapulted into action. She longed to understand as well, to quiet the desperate imaginings of her ignorant mind, to unseat the horrid images of what dangers she supposed lay waiting in the dark.

 

            “Chances are… those coyotes are long gone.” Siobhan offered, looking first into Delphine’s eyes and then nodding and glancing toward her clenching digits. The older woman crossed into the other’s space and rubbed her upper arms briskly, as much against the gathering chill of the mid-night air as against the tension that visibly gripped her guest. “They aren’t overly fond of loud noises.”

 

            Delphine’s brow, which had been knit into a familiar seam of worry, slackened. She smiled almost imperceptibly at herself and chuckled just under her breath. “You must think me unreasonably nervous.” she observed.

 

            Siobhan, pulling her into a heartfelt embrace, answered, “No, Delphine.” She allowed herself to relax, to sink into the older woman’s arms. “On the contrary,” she added, as she released Delphine and looked into her eyes. “I find you uncommonly courageous my dear, and it might help you to know,” she added stepping away again, “this has all be very overwhelming, even by Wild West standards. We, none of us, are accustomed to this much excitement. ”

 

            “Merci.” Delphine whispered shyly as they both turned their gazes back toward the barn.

 

            “Also Delphine,” Siobhan interjected into the comfortable silence that hung between them.

 

“Oui?” Delphine inquired easily, quite happy to hear whatever it was that Siobhan had to say to her, and more than a little curious when she saw the playful smirk that played at the corners of the older woman’s mouth… so like her daughter’s. It baffled Delphine that they were not biological relations.

 

“Your pyjamas are inside out.”

 

Delphine gasped in disbelief and shot a look down the length of her body. She blushed when she saw buttons popped the wrong way through their holes and the surged side seam that ran the length of her thigh. “Merde.” she giggled along with the woman standing next to her, shaking her head at her own, very revealing, oversight. “Excuse me.” she laughed as she headed back into the house before anyone else might return and she expose herself or Cosima to further ridicule.

 

“Hey cow girl, wanna have a roll in the hay with me?” Cosima asked mischievously when she found her upstairs a few minutes later.

 

Delphine, who was familiar with the euphemism, arched an eyebrow and moaned a soft _mmmmmm_ as she crossed to where Cosima stood and wrapped her arms around the other woman’s neck; she leaned down to kiss her. “I would love to. I hadn’t intended to stop _rolling in the hay_ so soon earlier. Claude is alright, yes?”

 

She hesitated before answering, “He’s fine, yeah.”  Cosima confirmed Delphine’s supposition and then wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s waist.  Delphine reached for the hem of Cosima’s tank top, to pull it over her head, but Cosima stopped her.  “Whoa, wait. We’re going to need more clothes not less; it’s a little chilly out in the barn.”

 

“The barn?” Delphine questioned, “I’m sorry, chérie, I thought to roll in the hay was to… I thought you wanted…” she trailed off, suddenly worried she had misunderstood the figure of speech.

 

“Yeah, I did. I mean I do. I mean yes, that is what it means… “ Cosima tripped over her words, stepping back out of Delphine’s arms, “It’s just, I’d feel better knowing that Claude isn’t out there by himself tonight; I can’t quite shake the feeling off, you know?” Cosima confessed. She added apologetically, “Sorry if I mislead you; I was trying to be cute.”

 

“I completely understand.” Delphine replied; she kissed the shorter woman tenderly, cupping her face in both hands. “I’ll go change.”

 

“Oh, wait. Here,” Cosima delayed her, grabbing a thicker flannel shirt from her own dresser and handing it to Delphine, “not sure of the fit, but it’ll be warmer, I think.”

 

“Merci,” Delphine replied, letting her fingers slide over Cosima’s hand as she retrieved the thoughtful offering.

 

“I’ll meet you down stairs.” Cosima added.

 

“D’accord,” Delphine agreed, as she entered the hallway, “And Cosima,” she paused, turning her head over her shoulder,

 

‘Yeah?” Cosima replied, wondering what else Delphine might need.

 

“You don’t have to try.” she shook her head slightly.

 

A half an hour later they sat on hay bail, leaning back against the wall of Claude’s pen, bedrolls laid out at their feet. The animal was sleeping peacefully. A lantern hung on a nail above them, providing a warm pool of light. The whooshing sizzle of the white hot mantles mixed with the sounds their mouths made and they each sipped coffee from enameled tin cups. A large green and silver thermos sat between them.

 

“Thanks for keeping me company.” Cosima said. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in an actual bed.”

 

“Non, don’t be silly. This is fine.” Her smile didn’t quite mask her uneasiness, but she was trying. “It will be an… adventure!”

 

“You’re something else, you know.” Cosima commented affectionately. “It’s like, you’ve come out here, so far from home and I don’t think you’ve had more than a few hours of normalcy since we got off of that train, and here you are, just letting this all happen to you.  It’s amazing; you’re amazing! You’re just so comfortable in your own skin.” She threaded her fingers through Delphine’s and raised the back of her hand to kiss it. “How do you do that?” Cosima asked in admiration.

 

“Honestly,” Delphine replied, “I’m a little nervous right now.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Cosima observed. “I can see that… but I mean, you’re not letting it stop you. You’re just… I don’t know how to say it.” She grappled for the right word before finally describing her new love as, “fearless, I guess.”

 

Delphine laughed out loud, an incredulous _Ha!_ “Oh, no, no, no. Not fearless. Definitely not fearless.” 

 

“Well, if you’re not fearless, you’re something,” Cosima countered, “and whatever it is, I like it.”

 

Delphine lolled her head to the side and stared warmly into Cosima’s eyes, enjoying the feeling of their hands strung together. She took a moment to consider the observation that had been made.

 

It was true. She was comfortable, possibly for the first time in her life… outside of the lab at least.  Surrounded by strangers, who held no expectations about who she was supposed to be, who’s egos were not bound up in her choices, who simply embraced her, Delphine felt more herself than she had in two and half decades with her own family.

 

But who was she? She looked down at her clothes, the borrowed navy flannel (which fit her perfectly well as it turned out) the blue jeans, the boots. From the outside, she barely recognized herself; her mother would have thought her in costume for an autumn celebration. And if she had occasion to tell the story of the last few days… how she’d been bleed on, cried on, kissed on and made love to— by a woman no less— no one in her acquaintance would likely have believed her.

 

But here she was holding hands and drinking coffee alongside a woman, a ranch hand, a scientist, with whom she had fallen completely in love, the pair of them sitting vigil over an albino calf named Claude. And she could not think of any place on Earth she would rather be.

 

“Do you know what I am?” Delphine asked rhetorically. Cosima looked at her inquisitively. “I’m happy, Cosima.” she stated. “I’m often surprised by what life is like here, but I’m happy to be learning about it with you.”

 

“Mmmmmmm,” Cosima held Delphine’s gaze. “good. I’m happy too.”

 

Cosima beamed at her. They maintained eye contact as they both took slow sips of their coffee. Then Cosima released her hold on Delphine’s left hand and took both coffee cups, placing them on the dirt floor next to the hay bale. She leaned in to kiss Delphine; the remnants of creamed and sugared coffee that clung to their lips and tongues gave their kiss a confectionary quality that made it all the more delicious. Their mouths slid against one another, tasting and probing, until Cosima pulled back and teased, “Not to make myself seem less exciting or anything, but you’re definitely getting a once in a lifetime Double S experience here. It’s not usually this… exciting.”

 

Delphine ran her fingers through Cosima’s hair and rested their foreheads together; she whispered, “That is almost _exactly_ what Siobhan said to me earlier tonight.”

 

“Yeah?” Cosima’s smile pulled into a lopsided inquiry.

 

“Oui.” Delphine affirmed, and then added, “Right before she pointed out that my clothes were inside out!”

 

“No?!?!” Cosima gasped, giggling, “She did not? They were not?!?”

 

“She did!” Delphine said adamantly, her hand flying to shield her expression. “They were! I was so embarrassed. Thank goodness your brothers were distracted; I don’t think they noticed.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Cosima rubbed one arm over the back of her neck. “We might have been a little loud.”

 

“Non?!?!?!” Delphine gasped, now blushing as well as laughing.

 

“Yeah. Paul was none the wiser, but Donnie sure as hell knew, and he let Paul know too.” Cosima, uncertain if Delphine was truly amused or laughing out of nervousness or anxiety, held her breath until her paramour responded, and when she finally did, after a few protracted moments of giddiness and then thoughtfulness, it was with perfect nonchalance.

 

“Well, I suppose I should tell Alison… so she doesn’t feel left out.”

 

Cosima laughed out loud at Delphine’s response.  “See? Fearless!”

 

“Come here,” Delphine whispered, moving from her place on the hay bale and settling down onto a bedroll. She patted the place next to her as she lay her body down, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Come. Let me hold you.”

 

Cosima did not need to be asked twice. She scrambled down to lay her head in the crook of Delphine’s shoulder, draping her arm and leg both over the other woman’s body. Delphine encircled the smaller woman in her arms.  Cosima’s hair smelled amazing; the scent of her shampoo filled Delphine’s senses first and then excited her memory. She recalled effortlessly the sensation of Cosima’s damp hair falling in cool ropes against her neck, chest, and breasts as she took her. She inhaled deeply and stretched her neck, letting her head fall backward. Her body remembered too. Being filled by Cosima, penetrated by Cosima, pleased by Cosima. She was swelling again at the recollection; her body crying out for more.  She rolled gently to the left, positioning Cosima on her back, now cradled in the crook of her elbow. She supported her weight on her left arm and threw her right leg over and between Cosima’s.

 

“Hi.” Cosima said, smiling broadly.

 

“Hi.” Delphine countered tenderly. She stroked Cosima’s face gently with her fingertips and then her thumb, letting it trace the line of Cosima’s bottom lip. Delphine had already taken her own between her teeth, studying the face of the woman beneath her.  She wanted to take her again, to give herself again to Cosima.

 

“What?” Cosima asked finally, sensing Delphine was holding something back.

 

Delphine laughed nervously.

 

“What?” Cosima asked again, more curious and more adamant. She reached up to run the backs of her fingers over Delphine’s cheek; the other woman turned her face into the touch and kissed the backs of her lovers fingers.

 

“I loved how you touched me earlier.” she murmured.

 

“Yeah?” Cosima asked, wanting to know she had pleased Delphine.

 

“Mmmmhmmmmm.” Delphine moaned.

 

“It was amazing Delphine; you were amazing.” Cosima returned the affirmation.

 

“I would like for you to do it again.” Delphine admitted, taking Cosima’s hand and kissing, now, the tips of her fingers.

 

“Yeah?” Cosima asked again, closing her eyes and savoring Delphine’s solicitous seduction.

 

“Oui,” she purred and when she took Cosima’s fingertip between her lips, nipping the end of it, Cosima inhaled sharply, her own body shocking her with a jolt of sensation through her abdomen.

 

“Delphine.” she whispered.

 

“Hmmm?” Delphine hummed as she let the tip of her tongue flick at the pad of the finger she held between her teeth.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Delphine stopped what she was doing and looked into Cosima’s features. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were dark. Delphine ached to fall into them, and so she did, allowing herself to savor the soft press of lips and the slow slide of tongues as Cosima’s fingers found their way into her curls again. _God_. She loved the feeling of Cosima claiming her, taking her, with even the smallest of gestures. She moved her body more directly over the top of Cosima’s. A wordless question, which Cosima answered by raising her hips and letting them fall against the length of Delphine’s thigh.  

 

Delphine moaned against Cosima’s mouth; their kiss remained deep and passionate; each stealing opportunistic breathes as they moved against each other. Cosima closed her arms around the other woman’s shoulders, and then threw her weight to the side first pushing Delphine onto her back and then tugging her back over on top of her again. Delphine squealed in delighted surprise at being so man-handled. They were no longer on the bedrolls but nestled into the thick layer of straw that lined Claude’s pen.

 

“A roll in the hay?” Delphine asked playfully.

 

“Mmmhmmmmm.” Cosima grinned back up at her. “Yes, please.” she answered as she reached for the buttons of Delphine’s shirt, releasing them one by one and savoring the evolving view of Delphine’s beautiful chest and torso until finally sliding the fabric off of her shoulders altogether and allowing herself to drink in the sight of Delphine’s ribcage and breasts. Nipples pulled taught into gorgeous points. She ran her hands down Delphine’s arms and felt the bumps that had risen on her flesh. “Is it too cold?” she asked, sincerely concerned about Delphine’s comfort, but Delphine was undeterred, moving hands to lowest button on Cosima’s shirt.

 

“You tell me, mon amour.” Delphine replied, making short work of Cosima’s shirt front as well and using her mouth to tease Cosima’s nipples once they were exposed. Delphine shuddered in Cosima’s arms as she lavished attention to her breasts, moving from one to the other and back again. She never tired of the feeling of Cosima’s breasts under her tongue. Cosima breathed sharply as she transitioned again from one rigid bud to the other.

 

“Hey Delphine,” she whispered, reaching to disengage Delphine from her ministrations and pull their gazes together.

 

“Oui?” Delphine asked looking into Cosima’s eyes.

 

“It’s pretty goddamned cold.” she declared, covering her moist nipples against the chill.

 

Delphine dropped her head and laughed. “I’m so glad you think so too!”

 

Cosima howled. “Oh my god! You weren’t going to say anything were you?”

 

“Possibly not.” Delphine confessed, smiling, having sat up and already threading her arms back into the flannel, still deliciously warm with her own body heat.

 

They dressed again quickly and settled back onto the bedrolls. Cosima covered them with a large, gray wool blanket, this time pulling Delphine to her side, blonde curls settling just under her chin.

 

“C’mon cowgirl,” Cosima teased, “let’s get some sleep.”


	24. I’ve Got You Under My Skin

“Mmmmmmmm, oui, mon amour. You are so good at this.”  Delphine moaned, as Cosima moved her fingers across the plane of her lover’s back. “Yes, Cosima! Right there.”  Only moments before she had uttered almost those same words as Cosima coaxed her body toward climax. She had arched her back to drop her hips lower, to bring the tight focus of her pleasure closer to Cosima’s skillful tongue when a muscle in her upper back seized into a tight coil of insufferable agony.

 

“That ground sure did a number on your back, babe.” Cosima observed.  She pressed the heel of her hand down into Delphine’s left trapezius and rocked it back and forth, moving slowly up toward her shoulder.

 

“Non, I’m sure that wasn’t it; I was very comfortable… babe.” she countered, grinning at Cosima, who rolled her eyes and smiled shyly. Delphine lay flat on her stomach; her head, turned to the right, rested on a firm pillow in a freshly starched case. The very white sheet in which they had recently been tangled was pushed aside, leaving most of her nude form exposed; Cosima had simply pulled a corner over to cover the round flesh of Delphine’s bottom. The summer sun poured plenty of light in through the west facing windows as it set, and though Delphine wasn’t modest where Cosima was concerned, it was a gesture that was meant to show tenderness.

 

“Bullshit.” Cosima called, good-naturedly. “Not with this kind of aftermath. There is no way you were comfortable! You should have slept on your back; you wouldn’t be hurting like this if you had.”  

 

“Perhaps,” Delphine conceded, “though I am more inclined to blame the hay bales.”

 

Cosima found the center of the impressive knot that had prompted the other woman to hastily call off their love-making; she pressed down firmly with the pads of her thumbs, ready to exact revenge on the bundled proteins and lactic acid that delayed the pleasure she wanted both to give and to receive.

 

“Ow!” Delphine cried, “not so hard, brat.” She swung her right arm backward and contacted Cosima’s naked thigh with a half-hearted slap.

 

“Brat?!?!” the incredulous brunette protested, easing off the pressure with which she laid into the other woman’s back. “Take that back, or I won’t let you sleep on me ever again, no matter how comfortable you are!”

 

Delphine retreated instantly, “Fine, I take it back.”

 

Cosima, playfully smug in her minor victory, replied, “Thank you,” as she continued to manipulate the lump under her fingers.

 

 The prone woman waited; she preferred to mount her counter attack with a well-timed afterthought, allowing Cosima only a few seconds of peace before adding coyly “Of course, chérie, you must acknowledge that only a brat would issue such a childish threat.”   

 

Cosima laughed out loud, “So now I am childish?” She dug in a little deeper; Delphine hissed at the therapeutic pain that radiated up to her neck. “I guess you’ve got me on that one.” The turgid muscle jumped under Cosima’s fingers, a sure sign the knot had given way. “There we go,” she declared with satisfaction, then changed her ministrations, gently swiping down the entire length of the muscle with her whole hand for another minute or so, attempting to coax the fibers into sustained relaxation. “Now, that is going to be sore for a little while, but I think I got it.” She rolled over and lay back down next to Delphine. Turning onto her left side, she looked the elegant woman in the face. “You are so beautiful; I can’t believe you’re real.  I mean, things like you don’t happen to girls like me.”

 

“What do you mean girls like you?” Delphine’s eyes were soft, flirtatious. “Girls who are intelligent, and charming, and kind?”  

 

“Noooo, but thank you for the compliments.” Cosima couldn’t help but land a quick peck on Delphine’s lips for those kind words. “I mean girls who like other girls.”

 

“I see,” Delphine murmured; her languid features betrayed a hint of mischief  “is that what you are?”

 

“Well, yeah.” Cosima answered.

 

Delphine reached over and pushed Cosima’s hair away from her face; “And is that why you like me? Because I am a girl.”

 

“What?” Cosima balked. “No, I mean... what?”

 

Delphine lifted her weight up off of the bed and moved to straddle Cosima’s hips, turning the slight woman onto her back as she did so. She grasped Cosima’s wrists and held them to the bed on either side of her head, leaning over she used the tip of her tongue to trace Cosima’s lips. She nudged Cosima’s nose with her own. She dropped her mouth to Cosima’s collarbone, kissed down the center of her chest, released Cosima’s wrists, and used her hand to cup the fullness of Cosima’s breast; she nuzzled her face into the soft and pliant warmth of her flesh, then used her mouth to coax Cosima’s nipples to attention.

 

 _Mmmmmmmm._ Cosima’s moans excited Delphine’s passion demonstrably; her own nipples hardened and she pulled her body back up to bring her own anxious flesh within Cosima’s reach. She gasped in satisfaction at Cosima kneading her small breasts, guiding each of her nipples into her eager mouth. Back arching Delphine dropped her head and luxuriated in the warmth of her lover’s attentions. She was pleasantly shocked when Cosima slid a hand between their bodies and guided two searching digits into her slick folds.   She rolled her hips into the touch, a finger running the length of either side of her sex.  

 

            She had never craved anything in her life the way that she craved Cosima’s touch, unless of course it was to touch Cosima. She had felt practically lecherous in her intentions for more than two days, and she wondered when her desire might finally be sated. She wanted to give herself to Cosima, to be possessed, marked, claimed. She wanted to possess Cosima, to mark her, to claim her, yet she also wanted to simply watch her. To admire her doing… well, anything really; it didn’t seem to matter at all what it was.  She was equally entranced watching Cosima arrange the perfect bite of food onto her fork at breakfast— a generous portion of egg white, followed by a slice of sausage perhaps a quarter of an inch thick, followed by a section of toasted bread about the mirror of the egg white, all dipped into the rich, runny yolk at the center of the egg— as she was watching her maneuver Darwin through the acrobatic act of cutting.   Cosima was to her an endless source of fascination, and now that they had granted each other access to their most intimate selves, learning Cosima’s desires had become an obsession, but not just a cognitive one.  Her obsession was visceral.  

 

When Cosima touched her, when she rubbed gentle circles around her sex, when she thrust inside of her, when she used her mouth, when she teased her opening with her tongue, Cosima answered questions for which Delphine had not yet found words. And when she welcomed Delphine’s touch, her affection, her longing, her kiss, her fervent explorations, Cosima laid herself open to being known in a way that Delphine never thought she could know another human being.  And when Cosima broke for her, writhing, pulsating, grasping her wrist, holding Delphine inside of her through her culmination, moaning her name, she etched her name indelibly upon Delphine’s heart.  She was in love; she had no doubt of it now.

 

“I love it when you say my name.” Delphine whispered, unceremoniously, as they lay in each other’s arms hours later, both too spent to make love any longer.  She drew lazy lines across Cosima’s rib cage, letting her finger find the soft skin just below Cosima’s breasts.

 

“Mmmmmm, good.” Cosima replied, placing a kiss atop the blonde curls just below her chin.  “I like saying your name.”

 

“And I love that I could still feel you on my fingers this morning when I showered.”  Delphine added, she lifted her digits from Cosima’s skin and rubbed the tips of her fingers across her thumb, remembering how the water had made them slick with the residue of their love-making.

 

“Haha, yeah, I noticed that too. That is… nice.” Cosima agreed.  “It’s like proof that it really happened, that I didn’t just dream you.”

 

“Mmmmm,” Delphine hummed, “if it is a dream then it belongs to both of us, chérie, and I do not want to wake up.” She raised her chin and kissed her lover tenderly.

 

“I’m so glad you thought to come here,” Cosima added after their lips parted, “I like not having to worry about being quiet.” Delphine chuckled, humming her agreement, “And even if someone did hear us, the staff here are much more discreet than my brothers.”

 

“Mon Dieu!” Delphine exhaled, “let us hope so!”   

 

The wisecracks had started as soon as the sun rose. Delphine was still cuddled into Cosima’s chest, letting the sounds of waking birds and milling cattle coax her into the day, when Paul and Donnie shouted from outside the barn.

 

“Is it safe? Are you decent?” they bellowed.

 

            Cosima tightened her grip on Delphine’s shoulders and groaned softly, “I am so sorry, Delphine. There is no excuse for them.”

 

            Delphine, who had smiled immediately at the good natured cat call, replied, “Non, don’t apologize. It’s amusing. Unexpected, but amusing!”

 

            “Hey, Cosanova,” Paul hollered again, “the day waits for no woman.  We’re coming in in ten seconds, so you gals best be dressed!” After a brief pause both voices rose together and counted.

 

“ONE, MISSISSIPPI…”

 

            “Son of a … C’mon, Delphine.” Cosima whispered, sliding out from underneath her; she brought her finger to her lips bidding her companion to be silent, and then began creeping toward the barn door.  

 

            “THREE, MISSISSIPPI! FOUR! MISS…”

 

            Delphine followed as the boys shouted their rascally countdown. Cosima stopped just in front of the barn door.  

 

            “What are we doing?” Delphine whispered, leaning close to Cosima.

 

            “Returning the favor,” she answered conspiratorial. “Get ready to jump.”

 

            “SEVEN, MISSISSIPPI!.. EIGHT!”

 

            Delphine enjoyed the idea of being included in the siblings’ sophomoric antics, but decided at the last moment to make the surprise more interesting; she would meet the boys on their own field of battle and employ the weapons of their choosing.

 

            “NINE, MISSISSIPPI!...”

 

            She grabbed Cosima by the elbow and spun her around into her body; taking Cosima’s face in her hands, she pulled their mouths together, so that as the boys reached _TEN_ and slid the barn door back, the sight that met their eyes quite defied their expectations.  They had been outsmarted, and they knew it instantly.

 

            “Ooooooooweeeeeee!” Donnie howled!

 

            “Well, hot damn!” Paul overlapped.

 

They slapped their knees, stomped their boots, and yowled appreciatively, staring at their sister wrapped up in the arms and lips of the tall blonde woman, who continued to kiss Cosima as if her life depended on it.  The kiss, Cosima had supposed, was meant to simply shock the boys, to turn the tables on their shenanigans, but Delphine continued to work her mouth against Cosima’s, long after the boot stomping and knee slapping had subsided; she kissed her until their laughter dissolved into moderately awkward giggles; she kissed her until, finally, Paul spoke awkwardly.

 

“Uh, well. Umm, c’mon Donnie. I guess maybe we’ll start in the corrals today.”

 

Donnie agreed. “Good idea, brother. Sorry for disturbing you, Delphine.” he finished, tipping his hat.

 

It wasn’t until the boys turned on their heels to retreat that Delphine finally tore her lips away from Cosima’s and faced her brothers, feigning innocence.

 

“Oh. I’m sorry; did you boys need something in the barn? We were just finishing a private conversation.” She grabbed a slack jawed Cosima by the hand and pulled her toward the house, grinning and throwing a departing nod at the equally slack jawed men as they passed. “Les gars.” she offered cordially.

 

They were a good ten yards away, when Cosima finally recovered from Delphine’s display of wit, camaraderie and desire.

 

“Well, I guess you showed them!” she glowed, quickening her pace to put her arms around Delphine’s waist from behind, letting their strides fall together.

 

“Perhaps.” Delphine smiled.

 

“Definitely!” Cosima beamed; “What made you think to do that?”

 

            “Well, I don’t particularly mind being teased;” Delphine admitted, “and from what I have observed, I believe they respect a little fight in their prey!”

 

            Cosima laughed out loud, “Boy, have you got their number!” she confirmed, “I have to say, that was pretty impressive. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them speechless before!”

 

            “What can I say?” came the modest reply. “You inspired me.”

 

            “Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” Cosima purred, stopping Delphine just before they got to the porch. “You inspired me pretty good back there too.” She threaded her arms around Delphine’s waist and pulled their hips together. Delphine leaned down, letting their foreheads touch.

 

            “I want to be with you again, Cosima.” she whispered. So badly; I’ve never been this aroused by anyone.”

 

            “Thank god,” Cosima sighed in relief, “I’m so glad I’m not the only one.”

 

            “Non, Cosima.  You are not the only one.” she brought their lips together again.  

 

            “All right you two.” It was Siobhan this time that interrupted their affection.  Maybe it was because she was a mother, but both women instantly moved to put a respectable distance between them; they even dropped hands.  They looked up at the older woman in the doorway; she arched an eyebrow at them and smiled.  “Come in. Eat up, and then wash up. Work before pleasure. It’s the only way a ranch stays afloat.”

 

            “Yes ma’am,” Cosima answered.

 

            “And for goodness sake,” Siobhan added, throwing a dish towel over her shoulder as she stepped back into the house, “Get a room!”  

 

They did as they were told.  Fed, cleaned, and changed, they joined the others in the morning chores.  

 

The work was hard and plentiful. Delphine mucked stalls with Alison, while the boys and Cosima shoveled manure and hauled it out of the corrals.  They all worked together to prepare for feeding of the livestock.  Paul, Donnie, Delphine, and Alison moved square bales from the hay barn to the corrals. Delphine and Alison partnered up, sliding gloved fingers under the bailing wire and shuffle stepping toward the flat bed truck; they counted together, _one, two, three,_ as they swung the bales to and fro, finally letting momentum help them clear the piping on the edge of the truck bed. The boys of course could move single bales with out assistance, pitching them at least eight feet in one thrust. Alison seemed particularly content to watch Donnie work. So much so that Delphine moved the last few bales herself, having given up on redirecting her partner. She could not blame Alison, if Cosima hadn’t been in the barn preparing the grains, she’d have gotten lost in thoughts of her own.  When they were all loaded up, Siobhan drove the truck; making a circuit of the property, stopping at every feed station, so the hands, both permanent and temporary, could distribute the chow.  Afterwards they set about clearing brush from the east side of the property; they used scuffle hoes to break the plants off at their base and rakes to gather them all together.  

 

Delphine had never spent any significant time in physically demanding labor.  Work had always been academic; it meant hours of observation and analysis; work meant an intense focus on the external world, the pursuit of understanding phenomena separate from herself. But this work was different; though it, too, was external, she found it surprisingly meditative. As she mucked, lifted, carried, pulled, chopped, and raked her body moved, but her mind became still. She luxuriated in the memories of the last few days, stealing glances at Cosima, imagining their reunion. Siobhan’s comment came back to her more than once. _Get a room._ She fantasized as she worked; the rhythm of her labor echoing the rhythm of her passions just enough to transport her back to Cosima’s bed, to Cosima’s warmth, to Cosima’s sex. She was so occupied both physically and mentally that it took her until almost dinner-time to remember that she did in fact have a room

 

True, the Riverside apartment lacked the charm and warmth of family that imbued her sleeping quarters at the ranch, but the room, and more importantly the bed, was hers for the next five weeks. She blushed at her own enthusiasm upon remembering.  She wondered what Cosima might say if she suggested they spend the night there. She wondered what Cosima was thinking as she too labored only meters away.

 

Cosima was quiet; her eyes traced unfamiliar shadows on the walls. She allowed herself to simply be in the moment; to feel her body melted into the bed and pillows; to feel the miraculous contentment of having Delphine’s arms and legs draped over her; to marvel at how her heart, which she guarded so vigilantly for so many years, felt open and ready. She sighed, letting her mind slip closer to the edge of sleep, to let it expound upon the potential of the moment.  Her thoughts, as they are wont to do, morphed into images, her neural network fusing her consciousness with her subconscious self painting pictures of hope and joyfulness and playfulness and love, of intimacy and trust and then, surprisingly, fear.

 

“What are you thinking?” Delphine asked.  The words startled Cosima into awareness. Cognizant of the very last image that had been evoked by her weary mind, she hesitated. “Are you sleeping, chérie?” The whispered words brushed against Cosima’s chest, searching, but soft enough not to wake her should the answer be yes.

 

Cosima wished Delphine had asked moments before when she had been fantasizing about sitting in a dark movie theater holding her hand. She wished she had asked a few moments later when her tired mind might have moved on to concerns about the ranch, the next day’s chores, or what time they should get up in order to keep their promise to Siobhan to be home in time for breakfast. She wished she could simply answer, without having to think, but the truth was her mind had moved forward five weeks; she had been thinking about trains, and return trips, and fall.  She had been thinking about endings, and here they were only at the beginning.  

 

She had no wish to lie to Delphine.

  
            “No. I’m awake.”


	25. Suspicious Minds

“You’re so unbelievably English right now!” Cosima observed, grinning, taking an intentional and international jab at Delphine’s equestrian experiences. “Relax down into the saddle; there’s a lot more of it under you than you’re used to?” Delphine sunk a bit. “Good, now hold the reigns in you right hand, loosen up on them. Good.  Now sweep to the right while you press in with your right leg.”  Delphine followed Cosima’s directions and Lucky heeded her wishes immediately. “Keep that pressure steady.” The disciplined animal completed a full circle, coming back to rest parallel to Darwin and Cosima again.

 

            “It is awkward. I have been riding my whole life and I feel as though I’ve never done it before.”  Delphine blushed a little, embarrassed by her confession. She was accustomed to reigning a bit differently, alternating pressure left to right to control her mount. To feeling the horse move beneath her through the thin leather of an English saddle.  Sitting atop Lucky, in a western saddle, felt somehow masculine, in a way that was not at all unpleasant.  Cosima reached across the slight distance between them and grabbed Delphine’s free hand.

 

            “Hey cowgirl,” she teased, “you’ve got a few things to tweak but you can do this.  And, you’ve got me,” she lifted her brow in mocking self importance, “so nothing to terrible is going to happen.” She squeezed Delphine’s hand reassuringly before dropping it and tossing a question toward her best friend. “You ready, boy?”  Darwin, on cue, nodded his head vigorously as if to protest that they had been so long stationary.  Cosima turned her attention then to Delphine. “Are you ready?”

 

            “Oui,” Delphine nodded, “I think so. Sweep with the reigns, don’t pull.”

 

            “Yeah,” Cosima replied, “just remember he’s wearing a straight bit not a snaffle; you tug one side or the other and you’ll pull his cheek under his teeth.”

 

            “And that would be…”

 

            “Uncomfortable.” Cosima finished her thought, grinning andcocking her eyebrows archly,  “then he might buck and throw you and trample you dead, so you best learn fast, little lady.” She tipped her hat and winked in Delphine’s direction and then gave soft, firm pressure into Darwin’s ribs with her heels. “Haw.”

 

            Delphine rolled her eyes, grinning at Cosima’s needling, though her heart fluttered a moment in spite of herself.  She gave Lucky’s abdomen a quick nudge, and they were off.

 

“I want to go on a date with you.” Cosima had said into the darkness, Delphine’s blond curls spilling across her chest, her breath ghosting down the valley between her breasts; the words excited the Delphine’s imagination.  She fantasized about dinner in a dimly lit steakhouse or a trip to the theater. She wondered if there were museums in Reno or if the lark of an outing to the casino’s on the downtown strip might leave them both feeling lucky. She had never imagined that what Cosima had in mind was using the feed truck to pull a horse trailer up a circuitous two-lane highway toward one of the most pristine places in the world.  

 

“And we are going up there?” Delphine had asked on the 12 mile straight-away that lead them from the middle of the flat basin valley to the base of the mountain.  She had not expected the terrain to change so abruptly.  On either side of them was scrub brush, sagebrush, scotch broom… desert… spread out across acres and acres of dusty Earth. But dead ahead of them a wall of evergreens rose up toward the sky.

 

“Up _and_ over.”  Cosima confirmed. The truck ambled along the road; it’s creaking suspension grateful for the break from off road dirt and debris. “See that ridge line there,” she pointed to a cascading line made by three rounded peaks that lay just to the right on the horizon line. “That is Mount Rose.”  Delphine leaned forward, bottom lip tucked under her teeth scanning the distance and taking in the beauty of the apparently naked rock at the top of the mountain.  

 

“What a beautiful name.” she mused. “I did not think that roses could grow up that high.”

 

“Oh,” Cosima clarified, “they can’t.  It’s way too cold for that. Actually, it was named for a woman.” Cosima smiled in Delphine’s direction.

 

“Vraiment?” Delphine’s eyes brightened, “tell me.”

 

“Well, the story goes, a cartographer was up on _that_ mountain,” she pointed to a smaller peak almost directly in front of them, “doing some work for the forest service. He knew the area very well and always camped on the western face of the mountain to get the most out of the daylight.  He had been a mountain man most of his life, but a married man for only a few months, and one night, as he watched the sun set, it lit up that ridgeline pretty spectacularly. He was so moved by it, said it reminded him of the way the rays of the sun caressed the skin of his bride on the morning after their wedding.  Her name,” she brought the lumbering vehicle to a stop on the side of the road, “was Rose.”  

 

Cosima got out and walked around to Delphine’s side of the truck. The eager woman cranked the rickety window down, shifting in her seat to lean out toward Cosima, who leaned in until the other woman’s head was over her shoulder.  She pointed toward the peak, tracing its contours with her finger. “Can you see the curves of her body?”

 

Delphine followed Cosima’s line of regard and almost instantly she saw it.  The mountain fell down in a series of curves that were utterly feminine.  They reminded her of the round lines of Cosima’s form in the morning light. Curves she admired openly on the rare occasion that she was awake before her lover.  Her eyes lingered for a moment on the horizon and then her focus moved closer, to the lines of Cosima’s profile.

 

“Oui.” Delphine observed, “I can. And they are very beautiful.”  Cosima turned to face her.

“You’re not even looking!” Her complaints were half-hearted at best. Delphine settled back into the truck, resting her chin on her arms, which sat crossed on the doorframe.

 

“Of course I looked.”  Her smile was broad, her eyes bright. “It is a very romantic story.” she observed.

 

“It is.” Cosima concurred.

 

 _Mmmmmmmm._ Delphine closed her eyes, “and I could not help imagining as you told it that I was that cartographer and you were mine, my own Rose.” Delphine reached out to touch Cosima’s cheek. The smaller woman’s expression changed just a bit, almost imperceptibly, before she intercepted Delphine’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

 

“Yeah,” she said.

           

            Had Cosima pulled away from her touch again? It wasn’t the first time that week that Delphine had wondered at Cosima’s reaction.

 

Most recently, they had been in the barn. They stood side by side leaning on the gate to the calf’s pen, their arms touching along the top rail.

 

“He sure knows who his mama is.” Cosima observed to Delphine.

 

Claude had taken up his favorite position, lying with his head in Alison’s lap.  The recently prim, but lately more relaxed, woman sat with her back to the hay bale at the side of the pen, one leg tucked in toward the other, which was stretched out straight. The calf loved to lay along the length of her outstretched leg and rest his head upon her knee. She was offering him a bottle of fresh milk, which he drank lazily, lifting his head at intervals to drink and then dropping it back down to rest.  

 

“You know this would go a lot faster if you made him stand up to eat.” Donnie observed, taking a place next to them on the ground and wrapping his arm around Alison’s shoulder.  “It’s natural for him, you know.”

 

“But why should he have to? Not when he has us to take care of him.” she settled herself softly against the strong man next to her.

 

Ever since she found herself enveloped in Donnie’s arms the night of Claude’s birth, Alison craved the comfort of closeness with this unexpected stranger. Cosima couldn’t help but smile at the tableau. She could imagine Claude, like his mother, inserting himself between the two if they got too close for his liking.  She smiled to herself at the memory of Lucy’s chin yanking back on her shoulder.  But then Donnie was with Claude nearly as often as Alison. It was very different than when Emily had suddenly shown up and taken so much of Cosima’s time and attention. She looked over at Delphine, and fear suddenly washed over her again. The same fears that had infected her thoughts as they lay together in Delphine’s room at the Riverside. Her features fluttered with nerves. Her brow knit itself together and a tangle of worry and acid landed, with shocking weight, in the center of her gut.  Even her kidneys felt like jelly.

 

Cosima stepped back.  She straightened her arms and dropped her head, bending at the hips. Head reeling with unwanted thoughts, she stared at the ground and breathed deeply, trying to force the unpleasantness from her mind and the discomfort from her body.  Of course Delphine was leaving, but it would only be a few more weeks before Cosima, too, returned to her studies for the fall.  Certainly, if there was something real between them it could survive a small separation, _and_ it had only been 11 days since they fell into each other’s lives. Now was the time to enjoy each other not to fret over futures. She understood this; she believed this, and most of the time she lived it, but still the pit in her stomach ached with emptiness.

 

“Are you alright?” Delphine asked, placing a hand on the small of Cosima’s back. The brunette jerked at the touch of her fingers.  “Mon dieu, Cosima, I am sorry.” Delphine declared, “I did not mean to startle you.”  Cosima’s countenance was slack for a moment, but she quickly forced her smile back into place.

 

“What? No. I was just stretching.” She leaned and twisted to the right.  “I had a charlie horse, but I’m right as rain now.” she offered.  

 

“Are you sure, chérie?” Skepticism was not something that Cosima had ever heard in the other woman’s voice before. She did not care for it.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Cosima retorted, her eyes open too wide.

 

“If you are certain.” Delphine acquiesced reluctantly.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Cosima turned back to the top rail of the gate.  Delphine copied her posture, worrying her lip between her teeth and listening to the sound of her own heart clanging in her chest.  

 

She tried forcing herself to keep her eyes on Alison and Donnie, but they were so comfortable, him whispering to her words that were inaudible to anyone else. Delphine looked at the back wall instead. She felt the tips of Cosima’s finger slide under her own along the rail.

 

“C’mon, cowgirl. Let’s give this little family some privacy.” She was reluctant to look into the smaller woman’s face, but she did, and the light behind Cosima’s eyes was entirely genuine and it relieved Delphine endlessly. She chided herself for being so sensitive.  

 

As they walked, hand in hand out of the barn, Cosima asked, “Are you excited for our date on Sunday?”  

 

“Mmmmmm, oui.” Delphine responded, “so much.”

 

“Good.” Cosima grinned, “so am I.”

 

“Only won’t you tell me what we are doing? Then I’ll know how to dress.”

 

“What you have on right now will be perfect.” Cosima grinned

 

“You’re sure, I won’t be under-dressed?” Delphine probed, hoping to get even a clue as to Cosima’s plans.

 

“Well, you might want to bring the Stetson.” she added, “oh, and a swim suit.”

 

Delphine was anxious to reach their destination. She had seen a glimpse of the lake from the highway as they crested the summit. Enormous, pristine and surrounded on every side by forested peaks. She was surprised when Cosima brought the truck and trailer to a stop in what appeared to be the middle of a meadow. She could still see the open expanse beyond the treetops at the edge of the clearing where the lake must be. She supposed they must still be a few miles away.

 

“I thought we could ride down to the beach.” Cosima explained.  They untrailered the horses and after a brief tutorial in the differences between Western and English riding styles, set off on horseback.  Desert grasses and sage covered the Earth, which was soft under the horses’ hooves.  They crossed the meadow passing a few islands of deep red wild flowers growing in the low-lying sections of the field.

 

“Those are beautiful.” Delphine swept the reigns to the right and pressed with her leg. Lucky turned a lazy circle around the flowering bush.

 

“It’s called Indian Paintbrush, for the long petals.” Cosima explained. “They are kind of my favorite.  I think it’s the red that gets me.”

 

“I can see why. They are exquisite.” Delphine studied them more closely. Tall woody stems extending two feet out of the ground exploded into plumes of color at the end. Deep red petals, long, thin, and rounded, reached out in all directions.

 

“They are very beautiful.” Cosima corrected her, “You are exquisite.”  Delphine blushed.  

 

They ascended into some gentle hills, and as they wended their way over a series of small crests, Cosima regaled Delphine with stories of George Whitell, the eccentric and ever-more-reclusive millionaire who was largely responsible for the unspoiled landscape of the Nevada side of the lake.

 

“I confess,” Delphine added, “until very recently I thought Lake Tahoe was entirely in California.”

 

“Don’t feel too badly; lots of people are surprised when they come to Reno that they are less than an hour from all of this.”

 

 _All of this_ appeared to be alpine forest for all Delphine had seen so far, not that it wasn’t breathtaking in its own right, but she knew that they were making their way, somehow, toward Lake Tahoe and she was anxious to get a closer look. As Darwin and Lucky ambled up yet another scrub-covered knoll, Cosima turned to Delphine and asked her simply, “Are you ready?”

 

She barely had time to process the question before they crested the hill and the breath was stolen from her body.

 

“Whoa, boy” Cosima brought Darwin to a stop; Lucky mirrored his response.

 

“Mon Dieu!” Delphine dismounted her horse immediately and walking to the edge of a rocky outcropping to get a better view; Cosima followed behind her.

 

Perhaps a quarter mile in front of them and a good four hundred feet down was the surface of the lake. The nearest shore was a sandy crescent perhaps a kilometer in length with large constellations of rock and each point. It sat nestled in a basin created by the uplifting of the mountains upon which she now stood, and, from what she could tell, perhaps only half of the lake was visible to her even from this distance. But more than the size of Lake Tahoe, Delphine was struck absolutely dumb by the color of its waters. They were blue, crystalline as they sat placid in the still summer air.  Near the shoreline, in the shallows, the color morphed into a spectacular teal, and where the water met the land and  the depth of the water was not great enough to refract any of the sun’s rays, the water took on the yellow hue of the sandy beach beneath.

 

“It’s ugly, right?” Delphine grinned; she was charmed by the fact that Cosima so often found irreverence a suitable substitute for wonder.

 

“Hideous.” Delphine deadpanned. “Now, chérie, how do we get down there?”

 

“Right this way, darling’.” Cosima flirted as walked back to her horse and swung herself back up into her saddle.

 

The beach at Sand Harbor had only been released for public use since the previous summer and was still a very well kept secret. So well kept, in fact, that it afforded the women the chance to run their horses through the surf with abandon and to steal a swim during which they splashed and frolicked more than might have been decorous should anyone else have been there to see.  And, of course, there had been cautious touches and caresses under the water’s surface (and then above it) that gave way to tender embraces, whispered affection, and, finally, expressions of intimate regard that neither had ever considered sharing in such an exposed environment.

 

When they had dressed themselves again and sat next to each other, with their toes dug into in the cool mountain sand, Cosima ran her arm through Delphine’s and rested her head on the blonde woman’s shoulder.  “Thanks for coming on a date with me.” She offered and then pressed her lips to Delphine’s shoulder.

 

“Of course,” Delphine rested her head on top of Cosima’s, “I’ve had such a wonderful day. I don’t think I could have ever imagined how beautiful this place truly is, or how happy it would make me to be here with you.  When you said a date I thought you meant something a bit more traditional; this mon amour has been so much more than a date; it has been an experience.”

 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it, but I’m not done with you yet.” Cosima clarified.

 

“You’re not?” Delphine lifted her toes out of the sand, letting it slide slowly between her toes as she did. “What else would you like to do with me?”  

 

Both women suppressed scandalous thoughts and giggled at the effort it took to do so.

 

“Well, honestly, what I really want to do is take you to Eagle Falls, arguable my favorite place in the entire Tahoe basin, but it, sadly, is on the California side of the lake, so I thought maybe we could go into Carson and grab dinner.”

 

Delphine was silent.

 

“Or, I mean, if you’d prefer,” Cosima was uncertain how to interpret the silence, “we can drive home and eat with the family.  I wouldn’t hate going to see a movie with you tonight.”  There was still no response. “Delphine?”

 

“Tell me about Eagle Falls.” Her request was almost winsome.

 

“Well, it gorgeous.  The water comes down a rock face that is cut into vertical shelves so the run off is pretty spectacular.  In spring and early summer it can be practically ethereal; mid summer to late you can hike up the riverbed that leads down to Emerald Bay and sit on the ledges of the lower falls while the water flows around you.  I mean you can look at it from the top too, but I kind of like to be in the middle of it. To be that close to the water, it’s just sort of… well, I’m not sure I have the words for it.”

 

“Take me there.” Delphine said definitively.

 

“Take you there?” Cosima lifted her head from Delphine’s shoulder. “I can’t take you there; you’re not allowed to leave the state.” Cosima reminded her.

 

“Well,” Delphine offered.  “ I won’t tell if you don’t.”  


	26. Down at the End of Lonely Street

Delphine unhooked herself from Cosima and shook out her socks, slipping them on followed by her boots.

 

“Delphine, it’s like an hour from here; by the time we get the horse trailered up again and get over there it will be 5:00.”  Cosima protested. “Really, Delphine, think about it. It’s not worth the risk. What if someone sees us.”

 

“Cosima, I know exactly eight people in Reno, you are one of them, six of the others are at the ranch, and I highly doubt my lawyer is exactly where you want to take me. I’m certain it will be fine. And if we run into anybody you know, just introduce me as your distant cousin Claudette from Nice.”  She lighted into Lucky’s saddle.  “I want to see these falls, Cosima, and I want to see them with you, while I still can.”

 

Cosima knew, somewhere in her heart, that Delphine was attempting to be persuasive, to reassure Cosima of her regard rather than to diminish it, but her mind grabbed onto those words, _while I still can_ and wouldn’t let them go. The feeling, the weight in her gut came back, again, and she had to force the smile into her voice.

 

“Yeah,” she answered, “alright. Let’s do it.”

 

The ride back to the truck was quiet. Delphine tried more than once to excite Cosima’s penchant for story telling by asking questions about the landscape, her horse, or the history of the area.  She was disappointed that Cosima seemed too distracted to really engage with her, but then she had forced the issue of leaving the state and perhaps that had been a mistake.  She decided to relax into the ride and enjoy the sight of the trail and the feeling of the sun warming her in between the late afternoon breezes that were beginning to churn up.

 

            Cosima was relieved when they got back to the trailer; the simple joy of labor, untacking the horses and brushing them down, gave her something to think and talk about that had nothing to do with the worries that gnawed at the back of her mind.  She taught Delphine to loosen the flank strap first — _unless, of course you want to get kicked in the face—_ and then the front cinch, taking special care to show her how to how back thread the latigo, making saddling up neater and more efficient the next time.

 

“People pay hundreds of dollars for a decent saddle; it makes no sense to leave it a mess and let the leather drag in the dirt and the mud.” They walked around Lucky’s rump to the offside, and she showed Delphine how mate the buckles of the rear cinch to the girth and then secure them to the keeper. “This way the shape of the front cinch keeps the shape of the horses belly and can dry in the air. Also,” she added, “more efficient when you tack up again. Now, you do Darwin.”

 

Delphine proved herself an apt pupil, making short work of Darwin’s tack and pad, after which they brushed the horses and trailered them.

 

“You still up for this?” Cosima asked as she turned the key; the engine roared to life.

 

“Absolument.” There was not a shred of hesitation in Delphine’s response, so Cosima swung the truck and trailer around and turned left, back onto the road toward the lake.

 

“Oooooooh, turn it up,” Delphine purred about half an hour later as State Route 28 turned into Highway 50.

 

“An Elvis girl, huh?” Cosima’s eyebrow lifted in a question, but she did not touch the volume knob.

 

“C’est vrai!” Delphine replied.  “I like him very much, and this song in particular.” She reached around the stick shift to the chrome-plated knob that she hoped would make the music louder and not change the station or ruin the reception.  She smiled broadly as the sparse instrumentation and smooth lyrics of _Heartbreak Hotel_ filled the cab of the truck.

She relaxed into the seat and let the music inhabit her body.   Her head snapped side to side with the signature pulse of the rhythm guitar; her shoulders popped and dipped, physicalizing the bass line, and she belted and crooned right along with Elvis, matching his accent perfectly.   She even tapped out the piano riffs on the side of her leg.

 

Her performance lacked pretension or self-consciousness and enraptured Cosima, who could not take her eyes off the woman on the bench seat next to her. That is until the peel of a horn snapped her attention back to the road. She swerved violently, pulling both the truck and the trailer back onto the right side of the road, narrowly missing a 1957 Chevy woody traveling in the opposite direction. Both women let out startled cries; the jolt tossed Delphine this way then that. She clutched the door and dash until the masses of the truck and trailer righted themselves over their axles. 

 

“Damn it.” Her tone half fear, half relief, Cosima apologized to Delphine profusely, “I am so sorry.  Oh my god; I have no idea what just happened. I… geez, I was just watching you and then…” She inhaled deeply, yet her heart still pounded, and her nerves still jangled. “I’m so sorry.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened in an attempt to quell the shaking of her hands. “Are you ok? I am so sorry.”

 

Though she too was well aware of her heart beat and her fear, Delphine answered quickly. “I am fine Cosima; a bit anxious perhaps, but I am fine.”

 

“Good.” Her mind refused to release her from the image of the damage she had almost caused. “God, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Please Cosima. I’m fine.” Delphine reassured her. “We are fine.” She snuck a peek out the back cab window. “We all seem to be fine.”

 

“Thank goodness,” the driver’s agitation began to subside.  They sat for a moment in stunned silence. It was Cosima who spoke first.  “Death was not exactly my goal for the end to our first official date!” She winked; the joke had its intended effect.

 

“I should hope not,” Delphine giggled, a slid over to Cosima’s side, resting her head on the driver’s shoulder then lacing their fingers together.

 

“Definitely not.” Cosima put her arm around Delphine who nestled into the other woman’s chest.  They drove on for miles like that, listening to the radio and admiring the scenery. In a tiny town called Zephyr Cove, Delphine noted a sign.   Only a few more miles and they would be in California, another 20 and they would be at the falls. 

 

“Last chance to back out…” Cosima warned.

 

“Just drive.” Delphine commanded. As they left Nevada and drove deeper into California the radio began to crackle and pop. Delphine turned the tuning knob to search for a clearer station.  She passed a classical station and a news program before _Heartbreak Hotel_ came in over the FM again.   Both women grinned.

 

Delphine reached out and turned off the radio. A question knit itself into Cosima’s brow. “Better safe than sorry.” her passenger clarified, an impish grin across her face.

 

“Well,” she paused for only a half a second to gather her witty retort, “stop being so cute and I won’t be so distracted.” Cosima admonished jovially.

 

“Oh!” The assignation of responsibility amused Delphine. “I am only thinking that the car can’t drive itself and since you struggle to do two things at once…”

 

Cosima laughed out loud. “Yeah, it’s not quite _The Long, Long Trailer_ is it?”

 

“Pardon?” The reference was lost on Delphine, and the, now familiar, crease appeared in the center of her brow.

 

“You didn’t see _The Long, Long Trailer_?” Cosima was dumbfounded. “With Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz?”

 

“Non.” Delphine answered, “It was a good film?”

 

“It was hysterical!” Cosima’s enthusiasm sparked regret in Delphine that she had missed the film. “I thought of it because there was a travel trailer on a mountain road that just kept rolling, and miraculously stayed on course, even though no one was driving.”

 

“Je comprend.” Delphine answered, “I can see the connection most definitely. And if you are recommending the film, I will not miss the opportunity if it comes up. I am a fan of great cinema.”

 

“Well, I don’t know about great cinema;” Cosima cautioned, “I mean, it’s no _Gone with the Wind_ , but it is great for laughs.”

 

  1. Delphine moaned; Cosima was still puzzling over why, when Delphine began to speak, addressing herself directly to Cosima



 

“Open your eyes and look at me.”  Her tone was even, but unyielding.  “No, I don't think I will kiss you,” she said, contemplatively, and then followed it more authoritatively, “although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” Cosima’s stomach flipped over.

 

“Oh wow.” she chuckled, impressed. “Ok.” She intentionally raised the pitch of her voice, lacing it with mild incredulity. “Oh, and I suppose you think you’re the proper person.”

 

The reply came, still perfectly in character, “I might be, if the right moment ever came.”

 

“You’re a conceited black hearted varmint, Rhett Butler, and I don’t know why I let you come see me?” Cosima’s imitation was as good as Delphine’s.

 

Here Delphine allowed herself the liberty of improvisation. “Because I’m the only woman over sixteen and under sixty who’s around to show you a good time.”

 

Cosima laughed out loud.  “Well I am not going to argue with that.  You’re the only woman who’s ever wanted to show me a good time.”

 

“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Delphine argued, good-naturedly. “You are very… ummm.” She groped for the right word. “Charming.  Certainly I’m not the first one to notice.”

 

Cosima considered her answer as she pulled the truck and trailer to a stop in a mountain top parking lot. “We’re here by the way.” she mentioned. “No,” Cosima admitted, “I guess you aren’t, but you are the first one to…” her expression stiffened almost imperceptibly, as her words trailed off. Delphine waited for the end of a sentence that never came.  Cosima, who had been staring out the front windshield, popped the door handle, and slid out of the truck, slamming the heavy door to make sure it shut securely. Delphine followed her lead, exiting the cab and hearing the door clank shut as she walked around to the front of the truck where Cosima now stood, uncertain if she should, or even if she wanted, to trouble Cosima to finish her thought.


	27. There Goes My Baby

No matter how many times she visited the falls, Cosima always stopped first to admire the vista from the parking area. A natural out cropping of rock and earth, its perimeter lined by small stone walls, sat just east of the lot and afforded a view of Emerald Bay that was nothing short of spectacular. The steep walls of the Sierra Nevada’s plunged down into the icy depths of the pristine waters; its great, pine forest unyielding even to the very edge of the water line, such that almost no beach existed around the inlet; rather a thin seam of rocks and pine needles knit the two together. In the center of the bay, a jagged protrusion of sparsely- timber, granite rose up out of the water.  Over centuries the enormous pressure of tectonic movement forced the majority of the basin floor over a thousand feet down, but this stubborn slab of rock, the only island in the whole of Lake Tahoe, refused to be subdued.

 

Wild and wealthy eccentrics had left their imprint all around the lake, but to Cosima’s mind Dead Man’s Island offered the most fascinating of relics by far. In the 1880’s, the original inhabitant of the island built for himself a wooden chapel and a tomb, proof of his disdain for society and the company of his fellow man. His plan to rest there in perpetuity, however, never came to fruition.  His ship sank en route to the island one night; his body was never recovered, and his tomb sat for over seventy years, ironically, empty.  In the 1920’s, a wealthy Santa Barbara woman built a home on the south eastern shore of Emerald Bay; a slave to her whimsy and in possession of enough money to indulge it, she had a tearoom built at the top of the island in the style of a tiny stone castle; the island provided the only source of stone, so the overall execution yielded a structure that felt whimsically juvenile.  She took great pleasure in ferrying her visitors to the tearoom at sunset in the summer, when the calm waters made the surface of the bay a mirror that captured the wild transformations of the sky at dusk.  When she died in 1945, the shore side home was willed to the state and Vikingsholm opened for public tours, but the structure atop the island fell into disrepair; now the crumbling tearoom simply added to the haunted ambiance of the spectral rock. It was an oddity, the island… a memorial to desperate isolation, and yet there was something about the desolation that touched Cosima, that she related to, more deeply than she was ever likely to admit to another human soul.

 

“The view from the top of the falls is beautiful,” Cosima explained as she stepped away from the truck and walked toward the overlook. Delphine followed close behind, grateful for the surety with which Cosima spoke in light of her recent hesitation. “ _That_ is about a quarter mile back that way.”  She pointed along Highway 50 from the direction they had just come. “But from the bottom,” she turned back toward Delphine, “it’s completely magnificent, and _that_ is about three quarters of a mile that way.”  She pointed back across the parking lot and toward the top of a wide trail that sloped obviously downward.  The conviction of Cosima’s assertions made up Delphine’s mind instantly, but she had no time to communicate her inclination to walk toward the bottom of the falls before they arrived at the edge of the viewing area where the cascading pines and placid waters arrested her train of thought.

 

“Mon Dieu,” she whispered, taking more than a moment to absorb the unspoiled wilderness that spread out before her; “Cosima, it’s so beautiful!” she marveled. “How in the world did you ever bring yourself to leave this place?”

 

Her question was meant to be rhetorical, but Cosima felt it as an indictment. She could have studied anywhere really, much closer to home. Berkeley had offered her a full ride scholarship to study microbiology; as a young woman in the sciences, the larger, more liberal, universities in California were hungry to attract her, especially after they read her entrance essay on differences between viral and bacterial reproduction.   UCLA had likewise courted her talents, but in the end it had been her desire to get away from Reno, to leave behind the painful memories of the spring of her seventeenth year, that had caused her to choose Radcliffe, to remove herself from the desert, to ensconce herself in a place where geography might not be a perpetual reminder of loss.  She didn’t regret he decision, but he had never truly owned it either.

 

Her gaze glued itself to the thin coat of sand covering the granite perch upon which they stood. “Emily.” she replied, quietly. “It was Emily.” The ball of her foot twisted firmly down into the rock face, grinding the grains to finer and finer grit, preferring, at this moment, sound to silence. Her arms crossed over her chest, shook a little. Uncertain what to say or do in the wake of such vulnerability, Cosima simply waited. Delphine’s right boot slid a little closer to her and turned; its companion followed suit. Delphine now stood perpendicular to her and then enfolded her gently, yet firmly in her arms.

 

“Mon Amour.” she whispered softly. Cosima turned more fully into the embrace. Neither moved until Delphine added several minutes later, “Thank you.”

 

Cosima looked at her, confused. “For what?!”

 

Delphine hesitated before answering; she knew how much courage it took for Cosima to even utter the woman’s name, and she did not wish to embarrass her by drawing further attention to it. “For sharing this with me.” She turned and gestured toward the horizon.

 

            “Yeah. It’s absolutely my pleasure.”  Cosima threaded her fingers through Delphine’s, and as she did so she felt the sands that had been shifting under her all day suddenly stabilize. “You know, Delphine, today you have seen my two very favorite views of Lake Tahoe.”

 

“Vraiment?” she wasn’t sure why this surprised her.

 

“Yeah, really.” she affirmed,  “the rest is just ugly. These are the only two good spots.” The impish grin that defined Cosima’s playful nature turned up at the corners of her mouth.

 

Delphine laughed out loud, “I am certain you are lying!”

 

“Maybe,” Cosima admitted teasingly, and then added in wonder, “but God, Delphine, I’m just so glad you’re here.”

 

            “So am I.” she squeezed the other woman’s hand tightly, “Glad and grateful.”

 

            “So have you decided which way are we going?” Cosima asked cheerfully.

 

            “Mmmm, absolument! We are going down.” Delphine answered immediately, starting off back toward the parking lot, “Today, I only want magnificent things.”

 

            This time Cosima laughed out loud, a flood of easiness washing over her. “Yeah.”

 

            The trail, wide and steep, had used to be the driveway down to the home on the shore.  Made to accommodate motor cars, it wound in a series of switchbacks at such a grade that pedestrians often felt compelled to run or skip down the trail like children, gravity pulling just hard enough to make walking more of a chore than it was worth. At the bottom of the forested path, directly on the beach, sat the great stone house called Vikingsholm. Unlike the tearoom on the island, the masonry of the dwelling itself was perfect and regal; wide curved windows dominated the front of the structure, affording an almost unimpeded view of the bay from any room in the house. It was stunning and certainly worth the walk, but the light was beginning to fade, and so Delphine passed on the suggestion that they tour the inside, in order to ensure ample time to enjoy the falls before dusk.

 

            After their steep descent, the trail up to the falls reoriented the muscles in Delphine’s legs.  It felt much more natural for her calves and thighs to propel her forward and up than to be constantly struggling to contain her momentum.  The trail began at the rear of the estate; three-quarters of a mile in length, the elevation change was moderate and fairly steady, though there were a few places where it rose quite suddenly, gaining almost 10 feet in a matter of a 5 yards; more than once each women had to grab onto a nearby tree, or put a third point of contact down upon the trail to bolster her ascent. About a third of the way up, a small rivulet less than two feet deep converged with the trail, running along its left side.  The only outlet for the cascading waters they were en route to witness, the stream flowed freely; in certain sections it even ran in small rapids swirling through piles of weathered rocks or running hard into, and around, the flat planes of impressive boulders. Delphine could easily see how one might be tempted to traverse the riverbed were the waters not quite so abundant. They’d been walking only twenty minutes when the sounds of the falls met their ears, growing steadily louder until they rounded one last, tight corner and finally came face to face with a stunning torrent of water tumbling down an equally impressive rock face.  The volume of water prevented Cosima from scurrying up the rocks to her favorite late summer perch, but she pointed it out to Delphine regardless.

 

            “It’s more practical when the falls are trickling instead of raging, but _that_ is my spot. You can’t really get to it until late July or early August, unless it’s been a very dry winter, which obviously it hasn’t been.” The waters sprayed forward more aggressively at the spot to which Cosima pointed, implying a generous outcropping.

 

            “I’m sorry that I will have to miss it.” Delphine mused; a hint of melancholy imbued her voice.  She took a step forward, edging closer to the falls. “I’d very much like to sit up there with you.” Cosima moved behind Delphine and slipped her arms around the woman’s waist; the uneven surface of the rock gave her enough of a height advantage that she was able to lay her chin on Delphine’s shoulder.  They were quiet for a moment.

 

            “I’m going to miss you.” She closed her eyes savoring the moment. “You’re so incredible.” Delphine laid her hands over Cosima’s and took her hands, forcing the smaller woman’s embrace to tighten. She then turned in Cosima’s arms laid a tender kiss upon her lips.

 

“Tell me about her.” she said.

 

“Tell you about who?” Cosima asked, a little confused.

 

“Emily.” Delphine clarified. “Tell me about Emily. Please.” Cosima practically choked out a strangled _Ha!_

 

“Ummm, Ok.” She dropped her arms from their embrace and took a step back. “What do you want to know?” She gestured widely with her arms, inviting Delphine’s inquiries, and, as she did, she crossed over to a convenient boulder and dropped her weight upon it; Delphine, recognizing that her request was creating some anxiety crossed too, more cautiously and took a spot on the ground just to the right of Cosima, her back resting against the rock.

 

“If you would rather not talk about it, chérie, we do not have to.”

 

“No, no. It’s fine.” Cosima answered, “It’s just, she’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

 

“Oiu?” Delphine’s tone betrayed more concern that curiosity.  “You have been thinking of her?”  It was clear Delphine was uncomfortable with the idea.

 

“Oh God, No. Delphine, not like that. No.”  Cosima clarified. “It’s just that she was the only other person I ever…”

 

“Loved.” Delphine completed the sentences; she had her head turned over her left shoulder, unwavering, unafraid, but not unaffected.

 

“Yeah,” Cosima shook her head slightly, “Sorry.  But that was a long time ago and lately, I haven’t meant to but I keep remembering the end, and it’s been hard.”

 

“The end.” Delphine repeated, “tell me, mon amour.”  She knew she was pushing, but Cosima had offered the information, and though her posture was a bit tense— she leaned forward, her elbows perched upon her knees— she answered in an even, almost conversational tone.

 

“Well, it ended when she came to show me her engagement ring.” Cosima chuckled now at the irony.

 

“What?!” Delphine was surprised.

 

“Yeah, we had finally gone to bed together, after months of spending every minute together we possibly could, and then she just disappeared for a week, had every excuse you could think of for why she couldn’t see me. She knocked on my door; it was a Friday night, and she came inside. She was nervous and I, stupidly, thought it was because she might want to stay with me again, but then she said ‘I have something to tell you.’ And I said, ‘What?’ and she held out her hand and there it was.  She talked a mile a minute; I barely remember what she said, except she kept asking me… begging me to be happy for her.”

 

“Cosima.” Delphine reached out and put a hand on her lover’s thigh; she was stunned for a moment, wanting to ask more questions, but realized the that she already new everything she needed to. ‘And that is what you meant when you said that she wasn’t like you.”

 

“Yeah.” Cosima turned her head to look at Delphine, “He manages the hotel at the Nugget in Sparks; they have three kids.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Delphine sympathized, “That must have been so painful.”

 

“Yeah, it kind of destroyed me. I ran away to Boston and I’ve avoided caring about anyone like that since.” Not wanting Delphine to misunderstand her she clarified. “Until now, that is.” Her qualification forced a smile to the corners of Delphine’s mouth.   “I mean I know it hasn’t been that long, but there’s just something here,” she gestured back and forth in the space between them, “and you’ve been so forthright and brave and, well, bold, Delphine, I literally couldn’t resist. I mean I wanted to. I tried to, but Donnie and Siobhan, they wouldn’t let me.”

 

This made Delphine laugh out loud. “They take very good care of you I think.” she observed.

 

Cosima laughed too. “They do, indeed.” She sat up straight, “so I’ve been not meaning to, but remembering those feelings a lot lately.”

 

“I see.” Delphine understood instantly. “Because things will change between us, too.”

 

“Yeah, it’s been, distracting me at the weirdest times. I try not to let the feeling push me around, but it takes a lot of effort sometimes.” Delphine rose up enough to put herself on Cosima’s level, to join her on the rock, sitting hip to hip.

 

“I understand.” she said, “It makes perfect sense. It is the only ending you have for a love story; of course you are feeling unsettled.”

 

“Yeah, so I also keep then thinking about our ending, which I hate, because we are just beginning, but you are leaving and that is not something I can ignore, but then I think, it won’t be that bad.”  The crease came to Delphine’s brow.

 

“It won’t be that bad? What do you mean, Cosima?” 

 

“Well, I mean, you’re leaving sure, but you’re leaving six weeks before I do and then we’ll both be back in about the same place, and then, I mean I don’t want to presume or anything, but maybe we could,” she hesitated, “see each other sometime.”

 

Delphine felt as if she might vomit. She closed her eyes and her face twisted into lines of psychic discomfort. She felt so stupid, so reckless, and so careless. She’d had the chance more than once to prevent this moment, to prepare Cosima, rather than blind side her and she hadn’t taken it.  The impulses in her brain slowed to a crawl. She could hardly find the words to say what she needed to. Cosima’s assumptions were so understandable; her hope so pure; her question so vulnerable.  The silence that hung in the air coupled with the look of pain on Delphine’s face jarred Cosima completely. She began to back walk her thoughts.

 

“Unless of course, you were thinking this was just a summer thing. I mean I didn’t even ask; do you have someone waiting for you back at Amherst? Or maybe you’re not comfortable with me being a woman, or you need time to complete your thesis, or…” Cosima’s rambling thoughts faded off as she ran out of plausible reasons for Delphine’s hesitation.

 

“Cosima,” the other woman’s words were strangled, but she spoke with conviction, “listen to me.  There is no one waiting for me at Amherst; but I can’t see you there in the fall.”

 

“Why not?” she asked, confused.  “Is it because I’m the way I am?”

 

“Goodness, Cosima, no.” Delphine was quick to correct her.

 

“Than what is it?” She willed her countenance and breathing into stern regulation, but a quivering in her eyebrow and chin betrayed the torrent of emotion threatening to spill forth.

 

“When I leave Reno,” Delphine explained, her own voice also shaking, “I’m not going back to Amherst. I’m going to Berkeley. I’ve applied for and been granted a graduate assistantship in their department of genetics. Cosima, I am so sorry.”

 

It was Cosima’s turn to be silent.


	28. Dead Flowers

Delphine trudged slowly up the stairs. Her footfalls impossibly quiet in consideration of the tremendous effort it took to lift and land each one on target. She paused outside of Cosima’s door; Siobhan had made the bed in their absence. The care implied by her meticulous effort touched Delphine deeply and elicited an acute longing in her heart that she had no choice but to ignore. She hovered there for a moment and then walked on past the bathroom to her own small guest quarters. Her valise sat open in the center of the bed; her thesis and notes spread out across the pillows. She moved over the threshold and shut the door behind her, dropping her tall frame into the chair that occupied the corner of the room, the chair where Cosima had sat last week, surprising her. It was the first night they had made love. And while the memory of that night– of holding Cosima in her arms, kissing her, waiting for her in the simple rocking chair to emerge from the shower and to, finally, alleviate her longing– was still vivid, it was powerless to soothe the ragged beating of her heart.

 

            “Cosima, talk to me.” she had asked, then urged, then finally begged as she chased Cosima back down the rugged trail, across the beach, and up the old dirt driveway to the truck. “Please.”

 

            Cosima, who had been reaching for the door handle of the old Chevy, turned on her sharply, making eye contact for the first time since she had lifted herself from the boulder at the bottom of the falls. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Delphine.” The ice in her stare struck the other woman mute; she stood holding that cold gaze for a long moment. “What do you want me to say?”

 

            “Je ne sais pas.” she offered, meekly.

 

Cosima shook her head slightly, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, well I don’t know either, Delphine.” She turned and climbed into the cab of the truck, slamming the door into its frame, the sound of it, hollow and much too loud.

 

Delphine walked quickly to her own door, wrenching it open, her body evidencing a violence of emotion she was unwilling to let spill over onto Cosima. She took a deep breath and calmly slid inside, pulling the door gently shut behind her. Neither made a movement or uttered a word, until Delphine turned to Cosima and said simply, “I didn’t know.”

 

 

            Cosima scoffed, “You didn’t know?”

 

            Realizing how foolish it sounded, Delphine added, “I mean at first, I didn’t know that it would matter, and then it did matter, and I should have told you and I did not, and I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too.” Cosima stated, matter-of-factly; the edge of resentment in her tone pierced Delphine’s gut. “And right now, I just want to go home.” She cranked the engine of the truck over and it roared to life. She slammed the gas pedal down into the floorboards a few times, revving the engine, louder and louder.

 

            “Ok.” Delphine responded.

 

Cosima thrust the stick shift forward into first gear, forgoing any delicacy in clutching or accelerating; the truck wheels faltered on the loose gravel as the vehicle struggled for adequate purchase to move the trailer and its own weight. Delphine braced her left hand against the dash and right against the doorframe until the ride was less jarring. Once they were back out on the highway, she made an effort to relax her posture. She turned her body on the bench seat, softening her limbs, opening herself to Cosima, who leaned against the driver’s side door, holding her right arm straight out to grasp the top of the steering wheel. Her shoulder, held high and tense, obscured her profile; she sniffed audibly, frequently. Despite her attempts at stoicism and detachment, Delphine knew.

 

Cosima was crying.

 

And though she wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe or kiss those tears away, Delphine stared out the windshield, wondering what she might say to penetrate the uncharacteristic and unnerving tension that had sprung up between them. Even in her own mind, however, all of her explanations sounded like excuses. Cosima inhaled sharply again, in obvious defiance of the torrent of emotion churning under her stern exterior. Delphine opened the glove box and found an old, crumpled tissue there. It was a bit stiff and had begun to disintegrate, casting off fine papery lint at its creases; it was better than nothing. She grasped it gingerly between her fingers and extended it toward Cosima.

 

“Stop, Delphine. I’m fine.” she insisted, then wiped her nose along left sleeve of her shirt. Delphine, cut by the obviously dismissive lie, gathered the tissue into the palm of her hand and squeezed it then moved it back to her fingertips. She unfolded it, made it flat, then refolded it into a long thin rectangle. She held one end between her thumb and index finger, then wrapped and unwrapped the tissue around her fingers methodically. When she could no longer find distraction in the silly pattern of the game she had set up for herself, she slid her eyes sideways to study the driver’s profile. Cosima’s jaw was still set, her entire body, in fact, was stiff, including her line of regard, which seemed to have penetrated past even the horizon and locked itself onto some void that lay beyond it.

 

Delphine’s brain invented a catalog of thoughts that Cosima might be having; some were darker or crueler than others and all of them intimidated her. She focused her breathing and tried to remind herself that despite the current evidence fear, not fact, fueled her conjecture. She busied herself with observation; as an undergraduate student, in order to sharpen her skills in the lab, she had cultivated the habit of noticing things when her brain might otherwise have been idle. Consequently, she often recognized the importance of details that others dismissed. She studied the expanse of burgundy vinyl, stitched into pillowed channels, that divided the width of the seat between them. Each channel seemed to be about two and a half centimeters wide. _One inch_ she thought _it’s American vehicle._ If her estimations were correct, that would mean that the entire seat might be covered in sixty such channels. The surface of the vinyl was more worn as it got farther from the center, and in places was abraded in jagged lines, presumably from the many rivets on the many pockets of many pairs of blue jeans that must have slid across it. She counted thirteen complete rows between the edge of her own leg and the side seam of Cosima’s dungarees. She calculated. _Thirty-three centimeters_. Her melancholic mind extrapolated the thought: _Thirty-three centimeters that might as well be kilometers_. She abandoned observation as a means of distraction, settling instead for the sights outside the front glass and passenger window.

 

            They passed the trail down which they had ambled a short few hours ago on horseback, toward the beach, where they had been so happy, where they had shared themselves so intimately and so unexpectedly. Cosima didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care. They drove on. Delphine recognized the turn off to the meadow where they had untrailered the horses and set off on their date. Her eyes found and held the deep red blooms of a stand of Indian Paintbrush. She turned her head as they motored on, turning her head at first as then craning, until, finally, they rounded a bend and the flowers slipped from her sight.   Her eyes next found the ridgeline Cosima had told her about on their ascent; she allowed them to linger a moment on the peak of Mount Rose before moving them back to the woman of whose reposed form the mountain reminded her.

 

            “Cosima.” she uttered, meekly, when the silence had become utterly unbearable.

 

            “Delphine.” Her name sounded like a warning. She continued with conviction, “I really can’t talk about this right now. I am trying so hard not to make you into her, and I need some space right now to do that, so please just don’t.” Cosima never took her eye off the road.

 

She could not say she was happy to be out of Cosima’s presence, but the silence in her small room, at least, was less deafening than the one that sat squarely between them for the last two hours. _I’m trying not to make you into her;_ those words tore at Delphine’s heart. She craved the escape of sleep; to forget the pained expression that greeted her every time she tried to find Cosima’s eye line; to deaden her impulse to ignore Cosima’s request and fly to her side, to force her to listen, to talk, to ascertain if it was possible that they might stand together to fight against the pain that had stolen the intimacy between them. But Cosima had been clear, and after being careless with her feelings once, Delphine refused, despite every instinct in her person declaring that she should do otherwise, to insinuate herself where she was not wanted.

 

She forced herself to rise. She crossed to the bed and haphazardly stacked the piles of papers and notes from the head of the bed. She dropped them into her open valise and then folded the baggage closed. She shifted its weight to the floor and turned down the bedclothes. She kicked off her boots, slid out of her clothes, and crossed the room the click the light off. She dropped her weight into the bed and pulled up the covers. She instantly missed the feel of Cosima nestled into her breast, so she rolled onto her left side, turning the pillow and wrapping her arms around it. If she slept, she might dream of the more pleasant parts of their day. If she slept, she might wake up to wounds that did not sting quite so much as they did laying here, alone, in the darkness.


	29. Trop Sensible

Cosima ran her finger over the black lines sketched in her journal.  A network of long thin fibers converging on a central hub, irregular and stretched like the skin of a broken drum, an opaque spider web. The neuron. The base cell of the nervous system, responsible for interpreting every electrical impulse in the human mind.  The processor of sensory information, light and sound; heat and cold; sweetness; bitterness.  The source of emotion and motion, voluntary and involuntary.  The architect of memory.   At the top of the page, a complex of jagged dendrites reached out toward the soma, the cell body, ready to gather information from neighboring neurons.  She traced one such uneven tributary down to the large, black stain of the soma itself, home of the nucleus and mitochondria whose structures lay obscured, hidden by the stain of the silver nitrate that made the image possible. The cell body, besides controlling the metabolic function of the neuron, processed incoming electrical signals from the dendrites, the strength of which might trigger a relay to be transmitted down the thicker, longer offshoot of the cell, the axon, into the synaptic spaces between itself and the next cell in the network.  Her finger traced the path down to the bottom of the page; she lifted it, moving it back to the top, and traced the route again, considering the power of this simple cell, the conduit for all knowing.  

 

Aside from structure and function, almost no difference existed between one and the billion of other neurons that make up the human brain, rather, the connections between one cell and its neighbors distinguished one from another, each having a part in a chain of reactions so quick and so complex that it might be decades or centuries before science could unravel its complexities.  These vast neural networks represented the total lived experience of any individual, everything he or she had ever learned, from the sounds within the womb, to the alphabet, to the smell of rain on sagebrush, to the ache of a broken heart. A single neuron, in fact, might have up to one thousand individual connections; the more connected the neuron, the stronger it was. The stronger the neuron, the more central role it played in information processing, the more it influenced the being to whom it belonged.  A fact, that right now, Cosima despised.

 

How could the synaptic connections that had helped her learn the sound of Delphine’s voice, the lay of her golden curls, the meaning of the crease in her brow and the biting of her bottom lip, her bravery, her boldness, the sincerity of her kiss, the warmth of her eyes, the passion in their lovemaking, the warmth of her, the softness of her, the scent of her, how could all of those connections fail to overpower the lessons of loss and fear that she learned in a single moment six years ago?  How in one moment’s time could her mind form the sort of affective fortress that kept her now from accessing feelings she knew she had: trust, longing, desire.  It was enough to make her run, to make her flee, but from what? How in the world could she ever escape herself?

 

She closed the journal and clicked off her bedside light.  As her eyes acclimated to the darkness, she found her perceptions warped.  From her bed she turned first to one side, then the other. The relative distances confirmed that her bed remained squarely in its place, and yet as her vision stretched into the miasma of blackness, her rocking chair and bureau receded from her. The windows and the door, apparently situated in their proper places, shrunk to the size of playthings. The ceiling, too, loomed impossibly high.  Her room had grown cavernous, and she felt hopelessly small within it, smaller than she had felt when she was six years old, the first night she had spent in Siobhan Sadler’s home.  Sleep.  She knew she needed sleep, yet, despite the fact that the bellows of her diaphragm moved liters of air a minute, she felt as though she were drowning. At the sound of footfalls in the hallway, she sat upright in bed.  The light snapped on, sneaking in under the crack of her door; the change in visual stimulus restored her sense of proportion. The door, now human sized, lay closed and as the footsteps paused in front of it, she willed it to open.

 

It had been hours since she had seen Delphine, who disappeared quickly after an almost silent meal and had not emerged from her room again that evening.  Cosima wanted to resent that choice, to feel abandoned by the other woman, but that lay beyond the capacity of even her distorted sensitivities.  She had been clear; she’d asked Delphine for space, and even though she now regretted that request, Cosima could not indict her for honoring it, especially when Delphine’s own impulses not to do so had been plain.   _Cosima._ The sound of her name, uttered as a plea, rang in her ears; the earnest regret that stained the other woman’s countenance from the moment of her declaration until her reluctant retreat had burned itself into Cosima’s memory.  She yearned now to hear her name spoken again in the delicate softness of Delphine’s accent, perhaps a cautious request, from the other side of the door, which she might open to find an expression of hope where for too many hours she had seen only despair.  The moment stretched, as she waited, wondering if Delphine’s head or heart might win the battle she assumed was raging just a few feet away from her.

 

Cosima checked her disappointment as the footsteps moved on, past her door and onward down the hall.  But they stopped again, then came nearer.   With each step, Cosima’s heart pounded, pounded in her ears.  She saw the door handle turn, and as it crept open, a sliver of light fell across the floor broken by the cross section of a shadow.

 

“Are you still awake?” Siobhan’s smooth voice slid through the darkness.

 

Cosima’s heart sank, unintentionally.  “Yeah, I am.” she answered.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” her mother asked, gently.

 

“I don’t know what to say, honestly.” Cosima replied, distracted by the crashing rhythm of her heart, whose aspirations poured, achingly out, through the spaces between her ribs. “I need to sleep, I think. Maybe tomorrow.”

 

“Anything you need, love,” came the velvet reply.

 

“Thank you.” Cosima’s chin and brow contracted, quivering against the loneliness of a self imposed exile.

 

“Good night, kitten.” The door began to close, but stopped again, “I love you.”

 

The latch clicked into place and she took her leave. Once, Siobhan had reached her own room, the light vanished.  Cosima lay down, surrounded again by darkness, but feeling slightly larger for having been shown a mother’s measure of compassion; the connection allowed her to settle into her skin a bit more, and soon her breath found the rhythm that led her to sleep.

 

Cosima awoke the next morning with a sense of purpose.  She dressed hastily, ate a few bites of the breakfast that had been left on a tray inside her door, and hurried downstairs to grab the car keys. Mercifully, Delphine was nowhere to be seen. She scribbled a note to the other woman, folded it in half to hide its contents, and left it in the center of the dining table, secured at one corner by the saltshaker.

 

When, thirty minutes later, Delphine found the note, she retrieved it, cautiously, read it, and smiled.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Richard said as he set a cup of coffee in front of his daughter, leaning toward her across the corner of his modest dining table.

 

Cosima had hoped that the drive to the reservation might have helped her find a simple way of asking for what she needed, but the labyrinth of her thoughts proved too twisted to unravel.  The sense of purpose that had propelled her from bed that morning, foundered in the tangle of her other emotions. And by the time she arrived and knocked upon her father’s door,  she simply hoped that her gut had lead her to the right place.

 

“I’m not sure I can explain it exactly; I just kind of freaked out yesterday.” Cosima admitted, shifting in her seat.

 

“Cosima.”  He waited until her eyes, which had failed to find purchase anywhere in the room, found mooring in his, and then in the even tone with which he always spoke, he added,  “the wind is from west today.”

 

She understood his meaning.  Her hands stretched; she gripped the hot surface of the plain, brown mug. The searing heat, a welcome distraction from her own muddled thoughts.  The pain sharpened her focus.  The ancestors had lead her to Richard's door, but she could not receive what she would not ask for.  

 

“It was Delphine. I mean, not Delphine, something she said.  She told me that she is not going back east after she gets divorced; she is going to Berkeley; she’s got a graduate assistantship there and so she’s…  going.”

 

“Well that is very impressive.” he smiled and raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

 

“It is.” She agreed, “and I didn’t even congratulate her.”

 

“Why not?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know? It’s like there are two versions of Delphine in my head. The one she is, and the one I am afraid she is, and yesterday I got really confused about which was  which and I acted kind of like a heel, but I was so afraid of saying something I didn’t mean, or that I would regret, that I just said nothing. And she’s going.  And she’s going to be really far away”

 

“They all leave, Cosima.” he stated simply,  “You’ve never been upset by it before.”

 

She sat in silence.

 

“Unless your feelings for Ms. Cormier are different.”

 

“Everything with Ms. Cormier is different.” Cosima admitted. “And Richard, you know nothing ever happened with the others. That was all just fantasy, a bunch of empty promises and well-timed flirtation.   They were just, distractions.  To stop me from feeling exactly like this!” She punctuated the last few words, jamming her fingertips into the table.

 

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

 

“I’m terrified.” Her agitation was growing, as the words she needed to say came closer to her conscious mind.

 

“Of what?”

 

“I thought a lot last night about Delphine and Emily. And how they are the same and all of the ways they are different, and I couldn’t believe how stuck I am, because the truth is, they aren’t the same at all.  I told Delphine once that Emily wasn’t like me; that she wasn’t a two-spirit person.”

 

“And Ms. Cormier is?”

 

“I have no idea!” Cosima practically exclaimed, “but it doesn’t matter, because that isn’t what was wrong with Emily at all. It’s not the she wasn’t _marone noho;_ she _loved_ me, I know she did. It’s that she wasn’t brave; loving me scared the hell out of her and she ran away.  She was a coward.”

 

“And Delphine? Is she brave?” Cosima paused to truly consider his question;the answer was plain.

 

“I think she is. And she is smart too. Do you know what she said to me yesterday?”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“She told me I only had one ending for a love story, and that is why I struggle to be ok when I am with her.”

 

“Do you think she is right?”

 

“I know she is.” Cosima affirmed,  “And I don’t know what to do.  My feelings yesterday were so big, and I understand that they exist for a reason; Emily hurt me. But I’ll be damned if I let her hurt me again. I have to unlearn this feeling before I really screw things up with Delphine.”

 

Richard, who had not moved during the entirety of their conversation, reached out and covered Cosima’s hand with his own, “Come with me,” he said, and then rose and strode toward the door.  He crossed to the far side of the yard and stepped into a small shed that stood in the corner of the property. He emerged a few moments later, holding a small, fat bundle of herbs tied together with jute fibers, an abalone shell, and small bunch of plumage, the tail feather of a bald eagle accented with two others, one from a red-tailed  hawk, the other from a raven.  He crossed to a pile of twisted wood in the center of the yard. Cosima knelt beside him.  He set the shell in the center of the wood pile and trimmed the end of the bundle with his pocket-knife, catching the falling sections of leaves and stems in the abalone. When the shell was full he produced a match and lit the sacred tinder ablaze. Lifting the shell to his lips he coaxed the embers into a smoldering cloud of smoke. The scent of sage filled Cosima’s nostrils, and as it billowed from the shell he began to sing the words of the Paiute smudge ceremony. Cosima loved the resonance of Richard’s voice when he chanted.  She did not understand the words, but she understood the ritual; she had seen it done so many times. Smudging with white sage purified the body, mind and heart to protect it from evil and make way for light.

 

He moved the shell toward her and retrieved the bundle of feathers, using them to cup a small cloud of smoke, which he lifted toward her her eyes, and as the smoke cleared she meditated _that I might see the beauty in the world._ He brought the smoke to her ears, and when it cleared, _that I might hear the lessons that are meant for me._ He brought it then to her mouth; she accepted the smoke and exhaled it, _that I might speak rightly when my words are needed._ Over her heart, _that I might hear its messages clearly._ Along her arms and to her hands, _that they might create beautiful things._  To her feet, _that they might take me where I most need to be._ And finally, he moved the shell up and down the length of her body, fanning the smoke against her frame, _that it might be cleansed and ready for healing._ As his voice and the words faded, he blew once more across the shell, releasing a final plume of smoke that drifted up into the sky, _that these prayers might reach the heavens._

 

They sat quietly for a moment, Richard’s hand resting upon Cosima’s knee, allowing the smudge pot to burn itself out.

 

“Cosima,” he said finally, “The most difficult part of change is finding a reason.” She studied his expression, placid as always, betraying neither aspiration nor judgment. “Are you ready to learn the new lessons of your heart?”

 

“I think I am.” Cosima smiled to herself,  adding “I mean, I better be. I asked her to meet me for dinner at 6.”

 

Richard chuckled under his breath, then rose and spoke to the winds blowing across his yard, “Always in such a hurry.”  He shook his head and walked inside.


	30. Let Me Love You

Delphine’s heart sat heavy in her chest. She peeled the blankets back. Marshaling every ounce of will she possessed, she forced her legs to the edge of the bed and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She had slept, she supposed, but remembered waking several times throughout the night. Discovering each time that she was alone in the small guestroom, her heart had beat too rapidly in her chest, a fluttering thrum echoing through her hollow chest. She’d sit up in an attempt to catch her breath, aching with the knowledge that this entire situation might reasonably have been avoided. Then she would remember that reason had little to do with the circumstances that brought Cosima and her to their current place of tension — to opposite sides of a chasm that neither of them had created, but that existed between them none-the-less— then sadness would draw her back down to her pillow, exhausted, until she slept again, restlessly and never for very long.

 

She pressed with her arms and legs and managed to gain her feet, then retrieved her blue jeans. She held them out and moved to step into them, but struggled to keep her balance. She listed to one side, disequilibrium forcing her to release the waist of her dungarees and catch her weight on the bed instead. She sat and tried again to dress herself, meeting with greater success but feeling defeated in the process. She stood, fastening her pants, then slipped on her button down over her camisole.

 

Having been so affected by the anxiousness between them, Delphine felt uncertain. She could not discern whether she hoped to avoid Cosima or to run into her. Cautiously slipping down the hall, she noticed the other woman’s room was empty, as it had been the night before; the bed had been slept in, but not made. The kitchen, she could tell from the top of the stairs was quiet, but it did not necessarily follow that is was deserted. As she descended, the slight creaking of the staircase was the only sound she could discern over the beating of her heart.

 

Hesitant as she was to run into Cosima, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she did not wish to see Paul or Donnie, neither of who would miss the opportunity to inquire about the uncharacteristic coolness that had imbued their dinner conversation the night before. Since she could not explain it to herself; it seemed a terrible idea to attempt to explain it to them. What would she say? She had hurt Cosima. She had not intended to; she could never have anticipated how violently Cosima’s fear of abandonment ruled her emotions, but the reality remained: she had hurt Cosima. How hardly seemed important, and she wished very much to make amends to the woman with whom she had fallen so utterly in love. She held her breath as she emerged from the stairwell, and then exhaled audibly, shaking some of the tension out of her body, as she found no living soul there to meet her.

 

She crossed to the coffee pot; it had been turned off, but was still half full and warmish to the touch. Delphine poured herself a cup of the disappointingly lukewarm liquid and sipped it, its acrid edge, much less pleasing at room temperature. She had an impulse to toss it out into the sink and run a fresh pot, but changed her mind. She recognized that a good cup of coffee would simply make her long for Cosima’s company, so she settled in at the table instead, opting to endure the tepid, less than satisfying beverage.

 

The paper lay a few feet away, folded open to the last story someone had read; Delphine raised her body up and leaned across the table, reaching for it. As she pulled it close she saw that it featured a picture of an incredibly unique automobile, shaped almost like a teardrop with only three wheels. Distracted by such a curious image, she failed to notice the saltshaker by her left elbow and knocked it over onto the tabletop. She reached out to right the fallen object and a word caught her attention.

 

_Delphine_

The letters of her name, inscribed in Cosima’s blocky print, both intrigued and frightened her. The letters were tidy, uniform, and perfectly centered. Such meticulousness might be evidence of care, but could just as easily be proof of reproach. She restored the shaker to its upright position and cautiously retrieved the folded missive, letting the errant grains of salt slip off onto the tablecloth.   She held it between her fingers, turning it over and back, considering its contents. She prepared herself for reproach, but hoped for care. Timidly, peeking into the folded paper, she read

 

            _I’m so sorry. I will figure this out. _

_Meet me for dinner at 6? Please._

_Cosima._

_Washoe Steakhouse_

_4201 W 4 th St._

Delphine refolded the note and held it over her heart, smiling. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head at the intensity of her own relief. Suddenly, hopeful and feeling much lighter, she abandoned the coffee and the paper. If she was going out to dinner with Cosima, she needed a new dress, and she knew exactly the one she wanted.

Cosima had dressed in a simple sleeveless, button down shirt, cream colored and satin. It was tucked into a pair of black slacks, high-waisted with a set of four pearl buttons at the closing; the band was thick, four inches wide and accentuated Cosima’s slender waist. The pants flared then at the hips and fell loosely down the length of each leg. She had gathered her hair up into a loose bun that allowed a few tendrils to fall out and frame her face.

 

It was just after five-thirty. She was early, but she had been ready for a half an hour and decided waiting might be less agonizing at the restaurant. The downtown casinos, equally famous for their cheap, greasy spoons and their opulent, fine dining restaurants, offered no environment that compared to this. Cosima’s favorite small, family-owned eatery, Washoe, had used to be a sprawling ranch home. The old foyer served as the reception area; behind that, the formal dining room (now a banquet space) opened to the right. The kitchen sat behind the banquet room and had been doubled from its original size. Left of the foyer, the rest of the walls in the home had been removed or truncated to create a large, open, multi-level dining area. Each small seating area held five or six tables covered in white cloth, appointed with modest and unique centerpieces, allowing candlelight dining after sunset. Black and white photographs covered the walls, images of the miners and machinery that filled Northern Nevada’s famous boomtowns.

 

The maître d showed her to a small table near the back of the restaurant.

 

“Will this be acceptable?” he asked.

 

“Perfect,” she responded, smiling. She chose the chair that afforded her a view toward the front of the restaurant. She asked for some water to keep the slightly sick feeling in her stomach at bay.

 

For years, Cosima’s preferred romantic scenarios had been all fantasy, no reality; all longing, no satisfaction; all allusion, no action; all charm, no commitment; all promises, no heart-break, but Delphine had changed all of that. In the last two weeks, fantasy, longing, allusion, charm, and promises, which had used to fill her with the blush of possibility, felt empty. Cosima had begun to dwell in reality, to crave satisfaction, to act with intention, to desire commitment, and to fear heart-break. She was uncertain what to expect from the evening, but she had at least decide to allow herself to hope. With a knot in her stomach, she waited to see if Delphine would appear.

 

She did not have to wait long.

 

“Right this way, Miss.” The same sharply dressed man who had shown Cosima to her seat minutes before, crossed into the dining room followed by Delphine, whose tall frame was accentuated by the high, white heels she wore. Her calves were well defined and impossibly long. She wore a white halter-top dress with large yellow roses splashed across the skirt and bodice; beautifully fitted at the waist and with a daring open back, the dress seemed custom made for Delphine. Her blonde curls were gathered up at the sides and pinned back into a twist, accentuating her long sender neck and the diamond and peridot tear drop earrings that hung elegantly parallel to it. A slow smile had begun to creep up the corners of Cosima’s mouth when Delphine first entered the room, but as the blonde approached and the two made shy, but constant, eye contact, the smile quickly became a full-blown grin. Delphine was obviously nervous, though her smile too betrayed an irrepressible enthusiasm for her companion.

 

“Merci,” Delphine nodded to the maître d as he pushed the chair in underneath her.

 

“Very good, Miss.” he said, as she settled herself. “Would you like to hear the specials?”

 

“I do not think so,” Delphine replied, anxious to be alone with Cosima as soon as might be possible. “A bottle of wine, perhaps?” she raised her eyebrows at Cosima, inquiringly.

 

“The house red, please.” Cosima affirmed.

 

“Certainly.” The man replied, nodding, as he took his leave. They sat for a moment, holding each other’s gaze until the man was a discreet distance away.

 

“Good evening, Cosima.” Delphine said, her steady smile unbroken. “Thank you for the invitation.”

 

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Cosima, still a bit in awe at the sight of the woman sat across from her, stammered, “Thank you for coming.”

 

“Of course.” Delphine allowed her eyes to take in the sight of Cosima’s hair hanging in loose strands around her beautiful face, accentuating the gold flecks in her hazel eyes which lay unguarded and open, a welcome change from the previous evening. “How could I resist?” Cosima entertained several wry responses aimed at indicting her own hyper indulgent emotionality, but ultimately found herself captivated by more pleasing thoughts.

 

“My god, do you have any idea how beautiful you look?” Cosima asked incredulously. “That dress is… wow, Delphine. Just, wow.”

 

Delphine blushed, enjoying the familiar hunger in Cosima’s tone and expression. “Mmm, thank you, Cosima. I noticed it the day I bought my ranch clothes. I admired it, but, at the moment, it seemed terribly impractical, considering.”

 

“Yeah,” Cosima agreed, “I guess it would. But you bought it anyway?”

 

“Well, I bought it this afternoon?” Delphine admitted.

 

“Really? Today?” Cosima was obviously impressed.

 

“Oui.” They were quiet for a moment. “When I read your note, I was so relieved. I wanted to do something to show you how it made me feel.”

 

“My note?” Cosima asked, incredulously, “Made you feel like this?”

 

“Oui.” Delphine replied. “It did.”

 

“I… I hardly know what to say Delphine.” Cosima fumbled for a cogent thought, “When S told me that she gave you a ride into town today, and that you weren’t coming back before dinner…, well, I had assumed… after yesterday and last night, that maybe you weren’t…”

 

“Cosima,” Delphine interrupted, “Please, don’t. I could just as easily say the same thing to you.” Cosima looked as if she might interject. Delphine raised a hand to quiet her, “When you were gone this morning, I did not know what to think. I am certain we have things to discuss, but for now, perhaps, we could simply say ‘I’m sorry,’ and enjoy each other’s company?” Her tone was hopeful.

 

“And you’d be ok with that?” Cosima asked, skeptically.

 

“I would.” Delphine confirmed. “In fact, I’d like that very much.”

 

“Because I came completely prepared with a speech and everything.” Cosima explained.

 

“A speech? Vraiment?” Delphine asked in disbelief.

 

Cosima was uncertain whether her companion was intrigued or entertained.

 

“Well, I didn’t want _you_ to think that _I_ thought you would be easy on me.” she explained.

 

At that, Delphine laughed out loud, and Cosima had her answer.

 

“I suppose I could try to be difficult.” Delphine jibed back, then added flirtatiously, “but if I am to be quite honest, chérie, my plan was to be very easy this evening.”

 

Cosima blushed hard; she felt the vessels in her cheeks and sex both open, allowing blood to bring heat to her flesh. Mercifully, the waiter arrived with their wine at almost that exact moment, sparing her the difficulty of trying to find words while her mind was so pointedly and agreeably distracted. Naturally, she had entertained the idea of seduction as she readied herself for their date, but she had pushed the thought aside, considering it a rather presumptuous line of thinking. Now, all she could think about was the taste of Delphine’s kiss and the warmth of their flesh pressed close.

 

“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” he asked after finishing the pour of the second glass.

 

“I think I have an idea.” Cosima answered, staring at the lip Delphine had captured between her teeth. It took her a moment to realize that the waiter likely expected a reply that was specific to the restaurant’s menu. She shook her gaze loose from Delphine and ordered for them both. “Two porterhouse dinners please, medium rare. Baked potatoes, please. And two dinner salads.”

 

“Excellent, miss.” he affirmed, then directed his attention to Delphine, “Can I get you anything else while you wait?”

 

“No, merci.” Delphine responded, staring at Cosima. “I believe I have everything I want.” Left again alone, Cosima reached across the table and opened her hand to Delphine, who wasted no time in covering it with her own.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cosima began, “I got so confused by my own emotions last night I couldn’t see straight. I apologize if I made you feel like you had done something wrong.”

 

“Non,” Delphine responded, “I’m sorry. I had no idea that my news would be so difficult for you. Well, at least not until it was entirely too late for me to try to make it less so.”

 

“Yeah,” Cosima observed, “I guess we were so busy falling in love that we skipped some important conversations.”

 

“It is funny you should mention that; Siobhan said the exact same thing to me today.” Delphine affirmed. “I hope you don’t mind that I spoke with her about our quarrel.”

 

Cosima laughed. “Not at all.” she clarified, “Since, I obviously talked to her too. It’s nice that she is giving us both the same advice!”

 

            “Tell me more about her.” Delphine suggested, and Cosima did. They talked about Cosima’s family and her childhood until their food arrived; as they ate, Delphine described her own emigration from France at the age of 7, her brother’s half-hearted rebellion that ended when he decided he did not care for poverty, and her parent’s aspirations in Boston society. After their food, they sipped coffee, sharing stories about how they came to their respective disciplines and programs.

 

“It’s funny, I actually turned down a full ride to Berkeley in order to go to Radcliffe.” Cosima shared.

 

“You did not?” The coincidence struck Delphine dumb.

 

“Yeah. I did.” Cosima confessed. “I was so hurt by Emily, I just wanted to get as far away from her as possible. So when I had decide where to go, I let geography choose for me.” Cosima shrugged. “I mean I don’t regret it. Or at least I didn’t until yesterday.” she added mockingly. “I’ve enjoyed my education very much, and I am very grateful for the research opportunities I’ve been given. Well, you probably understand.”

 

“I do understand; yes. And I also understand why you left.” Delphine admitted.

 

“You do?” Cosima asked, skeptically.

 

“Oui,” Delphine offered, “Berkeley is about as far from Boston as you can get with out leaving the country, and I would be lying if I said that that had not influenced my decision to apply to study there. I feel lucky that their genetics chair is so open minded.”

 

“Yeah, its Berkeley though.” Cosima added, eyebrows cocked as if she were acknowledging a secret between them. The blank look on Delphine’s face indicated she was uncertain of Cosima’s meaning “Well, they pride themselves on being progressive, so I imagine that recruiting a female geneticist specializing in the effects of chromosomal disorders on the expression of sex traits pretty much made their careers. You’re like a unicorn.” Delphine chuckled at the comparison. “They’ll trot you out at all sorts of fund raising events and alumni functions.”

 

“Like some sort of prize?” Delphine inquired.

 

“I suppose, but I would definitely take it as a compliment and use it! The more funding you can bring into the school, the more freedom they will give you, and the more resources you can request. You must see this kind of stuff at U Mass all of the time.”

 

“Well, to be frank, no. I am not often asked to attend such events in Amherst.” Delphine confessed.

 

“Well then, good for you! You’ll finally be recognized for what you have to offer.” Cosima sat back in her chair, glowing with pride at the woman across from her.

 

“Aside from my ability to start the coffee?” Delphine observed sardonically.

 

“Exactly.” Cosima nodded. “If they can’t recognize what they have, then they deserve to lose you.”

 

Delphine drained the remaining coffee from her cup. She pulled the napkin from her lap and tossed it emphatically down on the table. “Cosima,” she entreated, extending her hand, which Cosima instantly took, “stay with me tonight. At the Riverside. We can call Siobhan and let her know we will be back in the morning. I want to make love to you. Now.”

 

With out a word, Cosima rose and strode across the restaurant to the waiter. She placed something in his hand and came immediately back. She leaned down and whispered into the shell of Delphine’s ear, eliciting a blushing laugh from the other woman, who turned her face to within inches of her companion’s and answered. “Well, then I suggest you drive quickly.”


	31. The Healing Game

Cosima kept two hands on the wheel. The feeling of Delphine pressed against her side, one hand caressing her thigh and the other threaded around her upper arm bound her in a blissful quietness. She breathed deeply to compensate for the rapid beating of her heart. Words seemed utterly pointless, but she did whisper three into the darkness.

 

Delphine answered, pressing her lips, and though Cosima couldn’t be certain, she thought she felt the slight dampness of her lover’s tongue, to the exposed skin of her shoulder, “I want you, too.”

 

Cosima adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and pressed down more firmly on the accelerator. Delphine smiled to herself, momentarily interrupting her amorous attentions to the soft and fragrant skin under her lips. She rested her head on Cosima’s shoulder and sighed, impatient with the immutability of both time and distance as her need intensified.

 

Delphine locked the door of hotel room as it shut behind them; she kicked off her shoes and tossed her earrings onto the counter, then turned, rolling her ankles and finding her balance as her feet sat flat upon the floor again. She appreciated the two inches of height lost that would bring her closer to Cosima’s stature, and lost no time in turning to walk toward Cosima. The purpose in Delphine’s gait and the hunger in her eyes disarmed the woman who had so excited her passion. Cosima, who had also managed to remove her shoes and make her way toward the low brown couch in the center of the room, barely registered the sudden, and significant, spike in her body’s sexual responses, when Delphine reached out and captured her in a desperate and intimate embrace. An intense, familiar ache settled behind Cosima’s belly button and stretched through the length of her sex. Almost at once, the wet warmth of Delphine’s kiss landed on her shoulder. When that eager mouth found the base of her neck, Cosima’s knees buckled.

 

“God, you feel so good,” she whispered, holding tighter to Delphine and tipping her head to offer more of herself to the woman who continued her tender, yet insistent, ministrations. When Delphine’s lips reached her jaw, Cosima turned her head, bringing their mouths within inches of one another. She hesitated only briefly to allow her gaze to bounce from Delphine’s lips to her eyes –so full of wanting– then back to her lips, and finally covered Delphine’s mouth with her own. Her lips parted slightly, letting her tongue tease the edges of the other woman’s kiss. Delphine’s fingers moved to the buttons of Cosima’s blouse, releasing each from the neck downward, until the shirt hung open over Cosima’s naked torso. Delphine stepped back and looked. She was awestruck by the sight. Everything that should excite her passions was hidden from view, and yet somehow admiring the flesh of Cosima’s stomach and the space between her breasts felt more erotic than if she had been completely naked. On impulse, she reached out and began to work on the four buttons at the waist of Cosima’s pants.

 

“Take these off.” Her gentle demand hit Cosima in the solar plexus. Cosima let the pants fall to her ankles and stepped forward, out of them, and toward Delphine, who was impressed again by the allure of what she could not see. She recognized that all she had to do was slide Cosima’s shirt off of her shoulders and the other woman would be almost completely exposed. She turned her back to Cosima.

 

“Unzip me.” she whispered, reaching toward the closure at the fitted waist of her skirt. Cosima fulfilled her request loosening the bodice and waist of Delphine’s dress. Delphine turned to face Cosima again as she released the halter closure at the back of her neck.

 

Her garment fell open revealing her pert, excited breasts; she shimmied out of the dress and stood before Cosima in just her underwear. Cosima made to step toward her, but Delphine put a hand out to stop her and ran a finger from the base of Cosima’s neck down to her navel and back up again. She studied the skin everywhere her finger touched. She felt something unusual and leaned forward to look more closely. A small, concave scar sat almost directly above Cosima’s heart.

 

“What happened,” she asked, touching it tenderly.

 

            “Chicken pox.” Cosima admitted shyly. “That was my first one, and I scratched it so hard and so often that it was the last one to heal. Siobhan used to put oatmeal on it. It helped some, but at night... God! That was the worst.”

 

            Delphine listened patiently to Cosima’s explanation, then turned her, encouraging her to sit on the brown couch. She nudged Cosima’s knees apart and lowered her own body to kneel on the ground between them. She stretched to her full height, pressing Cosima back into the sofa and then dipped her head to her chest. She kissed the scar with reverence, tracing it with her tongue and brushing her lips over it tenderly. After she was satisfied that her mental record of the anomaly was accurate and permanent, she kissed back up Cosima’s neck to her lips and then to her ear.

 

            “Do you have any other scars?”

 

            Stunned momentarily by the sheer sexiness of the question, Cosima struggled to answer, then remembered. “Ummmm, my hand,” she stammered, making a loose fist and presenting the side of her right hand to Delphine. Taking Cosima’s hand to inspect it, she noted a large raised scar ran from the base of Cosima’s thumb in a jagged line toward her wrist.

 

            “Tell me.” Delphine’s curiosity was genuine as she studied the perfect imperfection with her fingertips.

 

            “Barbed wire,” Cosima named the culprit, “There was an accident when I was mending a fence. 22 stitches to close that up.”

 

            “Mon pauvre, petit chou.” Delphine teased as she brought Cosima’s hand toward her lips.

 

            Cosima, distracted by sensation, did not register the translation until a few moments later, but by then would have allowed Delphine to assign her any number of silly diminutives if it meant they could continue just as they were. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever touched her there, let alone kissed her there; she felt cared for in a way that was almost indescribable. “It’s impressive, right?” she managed, finally.

 

            “Mmm, very.” Delphine purred, making sure she attended to every millimeter of the scar. Cosima wanted to feel Delphine’s lips anywhere she could.

 

            “My shoelace got caught in the gears of my bike when I was seven… pulled my ankle down into the spokes and sheered the skin off down to the bone.” She shifted and offered her right leg to reveal a patch of shiny, slightly discolored skin that covered her ankle-bone and came to point near her heel. Delphine lifted the leg and set Cosima’s foot upon her shoulder; turning her head, she touched the new scar with her lips; the skin was completely smooth, not rough like a scar. It felt like silk.

 

            “Where else do you need me?” Delphine asked when she had had her fill, running her hands up and down the length of Cosima’s leg. The obvious answer, _everywhere,_ was the first thought that leapt to Cosima’s mind; her cheeks flushed at the thought of divulging the location of her only other scar; in fact she wasn’t sure Delphine wouldn’t think she was teasing.

 

            “Aren’t you bored yet?” she deflected. “Come up her and hold me.”

 

Delphine, eyes locked on Cosima’s in question, continued to let her hands glide over the flesh of her calf. For a moment, neither spoke

 

            “I’m waiting.” Delphine reminded her.

 

            “Fine.” Cosima acquiesced, more quickly than she had intended, “I had my appendix out when I was 13.”

 

            “Mmmmm,” Delphine smiled. “So, right about…” she hooked her hands behind Cosima’s knees and pulled her toward the edge of the couch, allowing her to lay back and expose the length of her torso. She moved the loose fabric on Cosima’s right side away, recognizing the telltale line, surgically precise, running just above and toward the midline her hip bone. Delphine dipped her head to find the scar with her mouth, and just before she found it, whispered, “…here.”

 

            The sight of Delphine moving toward her compelled Cosima to raise hips off the couch. Delphine hesitated. “Oui?” she asked teasing.

 

            “Yeah,” Cosima responded, shyly.

 

            Delphine pressed Cosima’s hips back down to the couch and lavished loving kisses where the scalpel had left its mark all those years before. She moved her hands over Cosima’s stomach and around to her hips, sliding her fingers into the waist band of Cosima’s underwear, inching it lower so she kiss a lazy line to Cosima’s other hip..

 

            “I don’t have a scars there.” Cosima cheeked, to keep the swelling strength of her want at bay. Delphine shifted her gaze to the other woman’s eyes, a sanguine smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

 

            “Come,” she whispered, her voice low and serious. She stood up, taking Cosima by the hand and leading her into the bedroom.

 

            There were no scars left to admire, no stories left to tell. When Delphine’s mouth met Cosima’s flesh again, they were no longer rooted to the past; but grounded in the present, in the sound, taste, and feel of each other; bound to the silent promises that lovers make, not with their words, but with their mouths, their hands, and their bodies. They made love for hours, each offering herself to and drawing pleasure from the other, until sheer exhaustion won out, and they collapsed into each other, both elated and sated.

 

Cosima rested in the crook of Delphine’s arm, head close to her breast, tracing lines up and down her sternum and across her ribs under her breasts.

 

“You are incredible.” she whispered, letting her fingers linger at Delphine’s side before bringing them up across the flat plane of her chest, dragging lazy swirling paths across Delphine’s soft skin. It was such a pleasant sensation; Delphine was surprised when a shiver ran through her body, causing her body to shudder a bit uncontrollably. Cosima was particularly amused by the way her hair moved when the shiver ran up her spine, causing her head to shake quickly side to side.

 

            “Who’s the puppy now?” Cosima giggled.

 

            Delphine laughed out loud; “You’re such a brat!” she charged, playfully.

 

            “Yeah,” Cosima acquiesced, “but you love me!”

 

            “Mmmm, true” Delphine enveloped Cosima more snuggly in her arms, luxuriating in the blithe banter they shared and in the palpable warmth that permeated the moment. Delphine wondered if it was possible to kiss a scar that one could not see.

 

            “Tell me?” Cosima asked, shyly.

 

            “Tell you what, mon amour?” The characteristic crease in Delphine’s brow evidenced the frankness of her confusion.

 

            “Tell me.” Cosima insisted, “please.”

 

            Comprehension dawned suddenly; Delphine closed her eyes and spoke gently.

 

“Cosima…”

 

“Delphine?”

 

“Je t’aime.” she answered, assuredly into the darkness, then whispered as she threaded her fingers through Cosima’s and brought them to her lips, kissing each one. “Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime.”

 

Cosima smiled, “Thank you.”

 

“It is my pleasure;” Delphine assured her, “I love to tell you how you make me feel.”  


“Really?” Cosima asked; a hint of mischief edged her tone, as she slid her hand down Delphine’s torso.

 

“Mmmmmm, oui.” Delphine moaned, as Cosima shifted to move on top of her, still reaching, eager to make Delphine feel again.


	32. The Sunny Side of the Street

“I’d suggest using the short handled shovel,” Siobhan clarified, handing one such tool to Alison as she said so. Cosima, Paul, and Donnie had gone out to move the herd to the south pasture from the north, which was in need of reseeding, so Darwin, Lucky, and Maverick’s stalls were all empty. “You’ll need to put your back into it; the bedding is ungodly heavy once it’s soiled. The longer the handle, the more unwieldy the muck.” Siobhan handed the other short handled shovel to Delphine and kept the long handled one for herself.

           “Obviously, you want to pull out the manure, that is easy to spot.” She scooped up a pile of moist round droppings and turned it into the wheelbarrow just outside the stall she was cleaning.   “The wet spots are fairly obvious.” She pointed toward a discolored patch of sawdust and jammed her shovel forcefully under the saturated pile; she heaved it up, bracing the shovel against her hip and holding it still. She walked to the barrow where she turned the contents over on top of the droppings.

“I’d always rather you toss out some dry bedding with the wet than leave wet in the stall, so don’t be shy about the edges.” She continued to scoop fouled bedding out of Lucky’s stall as Delphine and Alison watched on.

“Once you get all of the wet out, grab a rake and spread the dry bedding back around the stall. There are bags of fresh sawdust by the tack bench... Grab me one love.” she directed Alison as she raked.

Alison dutifully retrieved a bag of sawdust, heaving it up onto her shoulder, and laboring with it back across the barn. She dropped it into the stall. Siobhan retrieved her shovel and jammed the blade in a few times, cutting an X across the face of the bag. She turned it face down and lifted at opposite corners effectively dumping the entire contents of the sack in one efficient movement. She tossed the bag out toward the wheelbarrow; it landed on target. After she raked the new bedding in with the old, she walked out of the stall and stood next to her guests, leaning upon her shovel.

“And that, ladies,” she said ceremoniously, “is a fresh stall.” She showed them how to tar the rails where the horses might have taken to chewing and how to make sure the feeders were free of bran meal and hay remnants where flies might lay eggs and disease could fester. Then she left them on their own to complete the least desirable of the daily ranch chores.

Working in adjacent stalls, Delphine and Alison labored silently for the first few minutes; they worked deliberately through Siobhan’s directions. They carried their first shovels full of muck a bit unsteadily, but each found the feel for the offensive task quickly.   Delphine had noticed as Siobhan worked that the acrid note in the air had become increasingly pungent; now that she stood in the middle of it, the stench practically suffocated her. She tried to draw shallow breaths through her nose so she might smell as little as possible; she could not bring herself to draw breath through her open mouth.

“Holy heck!” Alison swore, apparently plagued by similar suffering, “Claude’s oopsie and tinkle doesn’t smell nearly this dreadful.”

Delphine laughed out loud, as much at the terms oopsie and tinkle, as at the synchrony of their thinking.

“C’est vrai,” she commented, “it is a remarkably disagreeable odor.”

“Though, I have to say, aside from the smell, it feels good to do some real work.” Alison confessed, dumping a pile of sawdust into the barrow.

“Mmmmm,” Delphine hummed her agreement.

“I mean, if someone had told me two weeks ago, Delphine, that I would be standing up to my ankles in horse hooey and actually enjoying myself I would have called them a big fat liar.”

“My mother would be horrified.” Delphine chuckled. Marie-Adèle Cormier’s disdain for both filth and physical labor was absolute. She considered sweat beneath both her and her daughter, and would not allow anyone in her employ to noticeably exert themselves in front of her. The staff that kept the Cormier home, impeccably trained, toiled late into the night and in the early morning hours, polishing, dusting, washing, and pressing to create the illusion that the stately house simply kept itself. In fact, Delphine was not sure she’d ever seen her mother carry anything more cumbersome than a hatbox, a fact that at this moment elicited more pity than disdain.

As her body reengaged in her task, Delphine’s mind sank into a symbiotic fantasy. She imagined a life of hard work, of rising early together, of equanimity, of fence mending and ranching. She imagined keeping house for Cosima, not to create an illusion, but to express her deep respect for their life. She imagined dropping into bed utterly exhausted at night, sore and sleepy. She imagined Cosima building them a bed from wood they reclaimed from the old barn – certainly they’d build a new one someday– and even though she had no idea how to sew, she imagined making the coverlet for that bed from fabric she’d bought at the Woolworth’s. All of these this she knew, of course, was far away and terribly romantic, but it also felt natural, to want to linger in this world as long as she could.

“Delphine?” Alison’s voice drew her out of her reverie; she realized she’d been daydreaming, holding a shovel full of filth locked at her hip for who knows how long.

“Oui?” she responded affably.

“Not to be horribly intrusive,” Alison began, “but can I ask about how you are?”

Delphine shook her head, grinning at her own romanticism; she’d never been the type to entertain sentimental daydreams. “I am fine; I was just thinking.” She walked to the wheelbarrow to unburden herself.

“No, I mean, how are you?” her words were measured and weighty.

“I’m sorry?” Delphine’s brow screwed into a confused crease.

“Oh golly,” flustered, Alison went anxiously back to shoveling as she spoke. “it’s just that Donnie seems to think that you were upset the other night, and he’s worried about Cosima too. So I just wanted to ask. Are you alright?”

“I see,” Delphine replied, comprehension dawning slowly.  

“It’s none of my business.” Alison dug her shovel deep under the damp sawdust she intended to remove. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“Non, non.” Delphine countered, moving another scoop of filth to the wheelbarrow. “I am sorry. I had not recognized what you were actually asking me.”

 

 

“It’s fine,” she drew her reserve close around her, “It really is not my place.”

 

“Alison,” Delphine stopped and caught the other woman’s eye, “It was kind of you to ask, and I do not mind talking about it.”

“You don’t?” Alison paused after dumping the last of the mess in the barrow.

“No;” Delphine affirmed, “I have not talked to anyone really, about any of this… except Siobhan, and Cosima of course.” Delphine explained.

“And you feel like you could talk to me?” Alison clarified.

“Of course.” Delphine chided gently, “We’ve only known each other a short while, but I do consider you a friend.” She traded her shovel for a rake and began to redistribute the sawdust around Darwin’s stall.

“Good, I consider you one, too.” Alison offered in recompense. “I suppose hard times make fast friends.”

“D’accord.” Delphine smiled.

 

“In fact, everyone here has been so kind; it feels silly now that I was so scared when I got off the train.” Alison confessed.

 

“I had thought I’d spend six weeks revising my dissertation in my hotel room.” Delphine shrugged nonchalantly. “I have yet to even make an honest effort.” They both smiled.

“And you’ve gotten close to Cosima.” Her tone was questioning.

 

“I have.” Delphine nodded, slowly. “And Donnie?”

 

Alison blushed slightly, “He’s wonderful.” She said nothing else, but there were words unspoken behind her eyes. “So the other night… ” Alison let her question taper off, “did you have a disagreement?”

“The other night was very difficult,” Delphine admitted, “and I am touched that Donnie was concerned about me at all; I would expect his compassion to lie solely with his sister.”

“He loves her very much;” she affirmed. “When he talks about her, he gets this look in his eye; not about what she is doing or what she said, but when he talks about who she is,” Delphine nodded, content simply to listen. “He said she’s been lonely for a long time and that you are the first...” after a pause she added friend in a delicate tone, “that she has had in along time. So when you two were so cool with each other at dinner, well, he was very concerned.”

“I was very concerned too.” Delphine countered, raising her eyebrows. She considered the word friend and was impressed with the effort Alison was making on her behalf, on Donnie’s perhaps.

“What happened?” Alison walked around the edge of the stall and leaned on the half wall that had been the only barrier between them.

“We had a misunderstanding.” she answered. “About the future.” She had finished raking and walked across the barn to retrieve a bag of fresh bedding.

“The future.” Alison echoed.

“Oui.” Delphine grunted as she heaved the 50-pound bag up over her shoulder. “She assumed I was going to return to Massachusetts after the summer, but I’m going to Berkeley.” She threw the bag down and grabbed her shovel, copying Siobhan’s technique. The results were less elegant, but no less effective she found, as she turned the bag over. “My news wounded her even though I had no intention of deceiving her.”

“So she wants to continue your friendship,” that knowing tone laced the term again, “after the summer.” It was a statement, not a question

“Yes, so it seems, and it will be much more complicated on opposite coasts.” Delphine admitted. “But we both have commitments to our education, so I assume a separation of some time is unavoidable.”

“And is that what you want?” When Delphine did not immediately respond, she probed further, “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course.” Delphine allowed.

 

Alison dropped her head, she kept her eyes in the ground, “Do you... love her?”

“I do, yes.” Delphine stated. There was no hesitation this time.

“But you’re having second thoughts about what happens after this?”

Delphine answered immediately. “No, not at all. I stopped because it had not occurred to me until you asked exactly how certain I actually am. I want to be with her. I love her.”

“The same way you loved your husband?” The question was sincere, so was Delphine’s answer.

“I am not sure I ever loved Phillip.” She raked out the new bedding as she spoke. “What I feel for Cosima is so very different. I am not certain I’ve ever loved anyone until I met her.” Delphine felt exposed in the heavy silence that followed her declaration. “That must sound very romantic.”

“No, not at all.” Alison assured her and then confessed, “I think I know what you mean.” Realizing how her statement might be interpreted, she added quickly, “not that I ever felt that way about a girl, goodness, no.” Delphine suppressed a smile at Alison’s flustered clarification, and interjected.

“Alison, I’ve never felt this before either, so I understand how strange it must seem.”

 

“Delphine, you don’t need to explain.” Alison shook her head, “I might not understand your friendship with Cosima exactly, but i am learning that there are a lot of things I might not know about being happy.”

 

“Really? Tell me more.” Delphine entreated.

“Charles and I... I think I have always loved the idea of being a wife and a mother; I was positive that I knew what happiness looked like. Charles asked me marry him, and I said yes. He was handsome and successful and I knew he would be a good provider. And he was. My job was to provide the children and then our life would be perfect. From the house to the family, to the dog in the yard, perfect. And then I couldn’t have the family, and Charles hates dogs. So I put everything I had into being the perfect wife, to try to save some bit of happiness, but I am not sure I ever cared that I was Charles’ wife. I don’t think it was ever about him.”

“I am not certain Phillip’s feelings for me were ever about me. He wanted a wife, and could never understand that I wanted to be so much more than that.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Alison mused.

“And here we both are.” Delphine observed.

“And here we both are.” Alison echoed.

Since neither made an attempt to extend the conversation further, Delphine fetched another bag of bedding and brought it to Maverick’s stall. They worked together to finish their task. Claude needed his morning feeding, Alison insisted Delphine try to give him his bottle. She sat on the hay bale; Alison insisted it was just easier. Claude accustomed to the routine came over to her and nudged her arm as soon as she sat down.

“I do not have anything for you yet.” Delphine cooed at her eager companion; she scratched the calf’s ears, which fell forward as his eyes relaxed into mere slits. He was sated until he heard Alison approaching with the large bottle of milk. His eyes popped open again and he walked to the fence where she stopped.

“You go see Delphine; she is feeding you this morning,” she commanded gently, but his eyes were trained on the bottle; she moved along the fence and he followed. She showed Delphine how to tuck the bottle along her forearm, supporting the weight of a liter and a half of milk and wrapping the hand around the neck. “He is very strong and eager, so this will make it easier on both of you.” Delphine rose and mimicked her posture.

“Like this?” she asked.

           “Perfect. Just let his head rest on your leg.” Delphine settled back onto the hay bale and Claude latched onto the bottle, drinking greedily.

“You are just too darling?” Alison cooed, reaching in to scratch Claude’s chin as he drank, “and you are a natural, Delphine. It took me two days to get comfortable with feeding time.”

          

“Well,” Delphine offered, “I’m only following your instructions. And you are a natural caretaker. Have you spent more than a few hours out of his presence since he was born?”

“I finally slept inside last night.” She admitted sheepishly. Both women laughed. “I always thought I was meant to be a mother.” Alison mused, “Who knew it would end up being to a cow?”

Delphine’s heart sank a little.

“I had everything planned, Delphine: how I would dress them, what they would smell like, the songs I would sing to them as they fell asleep, their names.   At first I thought we were doing something wrong, but the doctor said sometimes these things just take time, so we waited and waited and tried and tried; I got more and more desperate. I did everything anyone told me.”

 

“Your doctors?” Delphine sought clarity; Claude gulped hungrily from the bottle.

 

“Oh, my doctor, my mother, my neighbors. I made sure we _did it_ when the moon was full; I ate more steak and grapefruit than anyone ever should. Not together, of course, but if I never see either again it will be too soon. I bought boxer shorts for him and maternity clothes for me; I took cough syrup before bed for almost two months; I followed the pregnant girls at church and sat in their seats.”

“You sat in the seats of pregnant women?” Delphine brow was creased.

“I never really thought that one would work.” Alison confessed, “but I would have done anything to be able to have a child. There were five of us, who all got married within a year of each other. When Karen had her son, Jimmy, we all wondered who would be next. It was Ellen, and then Patti, then Ellen again. And then Patti again. At Jimmy’s fifth birthday party, Susan took me into the garden and told me privately that she a John were finally expecting. I appreciated that. She barely allowed herself to be happy in front of me. When we found out she had twins I cried. I stopped going to birthday parties, I sent cards and presents with my regrets, but it was just too hard. I felt so powerless and broken.”

 

“I know it matters very little, but I am sorry for you, Alison.” She switched the bottle from her right to her left arm, and offered Alison her hand, which the other woman took and squeezed. “How difficult that must have been for you.”

“Thank you, Delphine. It’s kind of you to say so.” Alison’s countenance held unexpected tranquility.

 

“And how are feeling now, if I can ask.” Claude was nearly finished with his bottle and pushed her arm around more freely.

 

“I’m not sure exactly, but since the night Claude was born, I’ve felt like that other me lived a lifetime ago. I don’t feel helpless, or maybe it’s useless.” Claude bit the nipple of the bottle and yanked it from Delphine’s hand. “Don’t you play with your food, young man.” She scolded him stepping through the fence to retrieve the bottle. “Donnie thinks this little one is a sign of good luck.” She observed.

 

“You two have spent a lot of time together, it seems.” Delphine did not wish to pry.

 

“Well, he’s taught me so much about this.” She indicated Claude, “but also he just lets me talk. He listens, and when it’s hard he let’s me fall apart. I love it when he puts his arms around me; I don’t remember the last time Charles held me.”

 

“Mmmmm,” Delphine rose and stepped out of the pen, “that must be nice.”

Alison blushed. “It is.” She also stepped out and they walked leisurely toward the barn door. After a lazy moment of quiet, she asked, “It’s exciting, isn’t it? Falling in love?”

Delphine moaned her agreement. “It is; very exciting indeed.”


	33. Calm Before the Storm

Thunder stretched through the valley, reverberating off the hills; its deep refrain stretched low and thin through the sky; a constant, rolling rumble punctuated by shocking, explosive crescendos. The rain that poured suddenly and ferociously from the dark grey sky, pounded the dry Earth, which could not drink it fast enough. Animals took shelter, and plants opened themselves up. Magnificent, jagged arcs of electricity split the sky; current after current coursed toward the ground accompanied by pervasive, brilliant, and evanescent white light as. It was a savage, summer storm, and it did not surprise Cosima that it had interrupted their lovemaking.

 

            “Mon Dieu! Cosima!” Delphine exclaimed from the window. At the last crack of thunder, she had disentangled her limbs from Cosima’s, jumped out of bed, naked, and thrown up the lower window pane; the clamor of the storm, unmuted, forced its way into the room, clearer and more raw than it had been moments before; the smell of dust and wet sagebrush wafted into the room, carried by a cold breeze, a breeze that moved Delphine’s curls gently back across her shoulders and pushed swollen drops of rain hard against the screen, shattering them into a mist that landed on Delphine forearms and thighs. She stood now, totally exposed, bent at the hips, outstretched arms leaning on the sill. Cosima, not oblivious to the enormity of the power that had so captivated her lover, was, herself, captivated by her lover’s posture. Her eyes traced the lines of Delphine’s body; her hips and derrière jutted backwards, making her torso long, exaggerating her waist; the muscles of her bottom, thighs, and calves stretched long; her breasts hung freely from her chest. A brilliant flash of white lit the room followed almost immediately by a deafening crack. “You are missing it! Come here.” she urged, head flung back over her shoulder. “It’s fantastic.”

 

“Alright, geez.” Enchanted by Delphine’s ebullience, Cosima agreed; she smiled to herself and slid out of bed, dragging the blue quilted bedspread behind her, moving closer to the pattering cadence of the rain. She turned the rocking chair, pulling it closer toward the window, as near as she could get without disturbing the transfixed woman in front of her. She held the corners of the quilt out wide as if she might wrap it around herself, but sat, keeping her arms outspread.

 

“Sit down,” she suggested softly, and when Delphine, who had not taken her eyes off of the horizon, turned, she smiled.

 

“Mmmm, oui.” she purred and settled onto Cosima’s lap, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s shoulders, who then wrapped them both in the thin hand-stitched quilt.

The sky was quiet for a moment, as the rain surged heavily, sending more and more water across the windowsill and floor.

 

            “This is, without question, my favorite thing about Nevada summers.” Cosima shared, adjusting her posture slightly to notch their bodies together more effectively. Delphine curled her limbs more intentionally into the warmth between them.

 

“Tell me, s’il te plait.” she asked, quietly.

 

“Well,” Cosima thought for a moment, “the Earth has the advantage all year long. Sure, the winds blow and whip through the valley, but the things it moves are meant to move. The sun beats down all summer on the sage and sand, but it always sets, and the ground cools off, and the sand and the sage… they are still here. The snow flies in the winter, but it only makes the landscape more majestic. This though, this is the sky reminding us all that we are only here by her auspices; no matter how mighty we ever feel, a storm makes everything and everyone stop to admire it.”

 

As if to illustrate her point, a colossal clap of thunder shook the windows in their casements and startled them both. Delphine yelped a little, a look of wide-eyed of wonder on her face, and Cosima who’s heart raced a bit in her chest, laughed at them both.

 

“My goodness,” Delphine observed, “I did not expect storms like this in the desert.” She paused for a moment as the thunder rolled again. “I keep expecting to smell salt water.”

 

“It’s funny you say that,” Cosima observed, kissing Delphine’s shoulder lightly. “When I’m at school, and a Noreaster rolls in, I always expect it to smell like this, and then it doesn’t, and I miss it.”

 

Delphine moaned her understanding. “It is a beautiful. I can see why you miss it.” She shivered a bit, and Cosima pulled the blanket tighter around them. She kept her lips close to Delphine’s flesh, the scent of her skin filling her mind with tender thoughts.  

 

 

“I’m going to have a lot more to miss this fall.” she moved her hands suggestively down the length of Delphine’s thigh and let her head fall against her shoulder.   The other woman immediately caught her meaning, but had no idea how to respond. The last time they spoke about the fall, her heart had broken; she didn’t want to have to decide again which words to use, which might wound despite their intention to comfort. She covered Cosima’s hand with her own and squeezed.

 

“Mmmm, I will too, chèrie,” she whispered, kissing Cosima’s hair. Feeling the warm press of lips at her hairline, Cosima turned her eyes back to the window. The rain seemed suddenly more depressing than awe-inspiring. She fought against the ache that began to swell in her chest.

 

“You will?” Cosima voice was strained. Her chin and eyebrow trembled, and she found she could not prevent the tears that had suddenly sprung up from spilling onto her cheek. She felt foolish; she hadn’t intended to cry again.

 

“Of course I will,” Delphine insisted gently, lifting Cosima’s chin. “Je t’aime.” she added. Cosima turned her head, swiping away with her whole palm; she stretched her facial muscles, attempting to quell the spasms that betrayed her feeling. Delphine brought her hands immediately to Cosima’s brow and smoothed her hair back, then caressed the side of her face. “Don’t you know?”

 

“I’m sorry, Delphine.” she apologized emphatically. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, God!” She tried to force a change in her humor. “I’m fine, really.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Delphine insisted, she found Cosima’s eyes with her own, “We haven’t talked about it, and perhaps we should.”

“Or we could ignore it.” The burbling of the rain filled the space around them. Delphine waited, patiently; a shiver, coaxed forth by the damp breeze, rolled through her body.

 

“Or we could talk.” she countered, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Cosima’s lips. When she pulled back she noticed Cosima’s eyes were still closed. Won over by the sincerity of Delphine’s kiss, she inhaled long and slow; as she exhaled, she opened her eyes and spoke.

 

“I’m sorry I was angry with you last week,” Cosima stumbled a bit over her words, “well, not angery, I mean, yes obviously I behaved in an angry way, but really I was just so scared.”

 

“Were you afraid of me, mon amour?” Delphine sought clarification.

 

“No, of course not.” she answered too quickly, “Well, maybe, kind of. And I know I was wrong, for a thousand reasons, or at least I hope I was, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was… I _am_ scared.” The rain continued to pour down, the thunder to fill the air with noise.

 

“What are you afraid of Cosima? Can you tell me?” Delphine probed. She felt Cosima’s body tense underneath her. “Cosima, talk to me.” Her tone remained calm and gentle.

 

“This is so hard.” Cosima confessed, “I hate that I’m even emotional right now; all I wanted to do tonight was take you to bed, and not think about the future, and I am ruining it.”

 

“You’re not ruing anything.” Delphine clarified. “I don’t know how to make you not afraid….” Cosima tried to interject. “but I do know that I love you, and I don’t want to leave you.” Grateful she had held her tongue, Cosima let the words settle over her, she ached for them to be true.

 

            “And you are sure about that?” she asked. Delphine chuckled.

 

            “That I love you or that I don’t want to leave you?”

 

            “Both.”

 

“Yes, Cosima.” she slipped a hand into Cosima’s hair and pulled their mouths together, offering tender promises, stronger than words, with her lips and tongue. She wrapped her arms around the other woman tighter; their breathing synchronized for a long slow moment. They melted into each other. What the storm had interrupted Delphine resumed. She broke their kiss but only long enough to rise and guide Cosima back to the bed. They lay down together, Delphine covering Cosima’s body with her own, then readjusting the quilt to keep the cold of the storm at bay. “I’m sure.” Her languorous gaze flowed over Cosima’s features; Cosima ran her hands down the length of Delphine’s arm.

 

“Do you want me to close the window?” she asked, noting the raised bumps under her fingers.

 

“Non,” Delphine replied, dipping her head to kiss the spaces above her collarbone. “I want you to keep me warm.”

 

“Mmmm, okay,” Cosima hummed. She wrapped her arms around Delphine and curled a leg around her calf. She pulled their bodies snug against one another, then after a moment began squeezing, too tightly. Delphine groaned as her ribs were constricted.

 

“How’s that?” Cosima asked playfully.

 

“Perfect.” Delphine chuckled as she struggled to draw breath, “Now let me go so I can make love to you.”

 

“Well,” Cosima sighed as she released her grip, “if you insist.” She let her limbs fall open in a playful offering.

 

“Brat.” Delphine narrowed her eyes. Cosima brought her arms up and around Delphine’s neck.

 

“But I’m your brat.” she purred as she closed the gap between them. Delphine sank into the kiss then slid her arms under Cosima, bringing her hands to either side of her neck She gripped the top of Cosima’s shoulders, anchoring them together. She let her lips leave Cosima’s to offer attention to her shoulders, neck, and chest. She loved to kiss the space between Cosima’s breasts almost as much as she loved the feel of her nipples rigid under her tongue. She slipped her knees between Cosima’s and raised herself up, gently coaxing Cosima’s legs apart as she did so. She nipped affectionately at her breasts; her hands gently cradling each one as she took its center into her mouth.

 

Cosima moaned in pleasure as Delphine sucked gently and stroked with her tongue. She felt the swelling between her legs, warm strokes upon her excited flesh calling to mind a more intimate heat. Delphine must have been thinking the same thing; she did not hurry, but she did move methodically lower, kissing Cosima’s ribs and sides and hip bones as she moved further down the bed and under the quilt. When her mouth found its prize, Cosima arched her back in approval, rolling her hips, making sure Delphine understood the urgency of her wanting. She needn’t have worried, however, the depth of Delphine’s own need coupled with her patience and curiosity ensured that Cosima’s pleasure was exquisite. She had never been made love to like that for so long. The varying rhythm of Delphine’s tongue and the gentle pressure of her fingers inside, stoked and then spread a creeping fire across her flesh; the promise of release licked at every nerve ending in her body. Sensation rolled into itself, building to a crescendo that rivaled the power of the storm still raging outside.

 

She lay spent, pulses of pleasure still echoing in her body, and occasionally in her sex. Delphine lay beside her, head in the crook of her arm, she had pulled the blanket up snug around her own shoulder, making sure it also covered Cosima’s breasts. She tucked it in under them on both sides, creating a glorious haven of warmth in the now chilly room.  

 

“I love you.” Cosima whispered into the space between them; Delphine let the words hang in the air, feeling them settle into her mind and heart. She hummed appreciatively and was about to echo the sentiment, when Cosima continued, “But I have to close that window.”


	34. Living In Twilight

All traces of the storm had vanished by the time Delphine awoke the next morning. The heat of the day streamed in unfettered by the shade they had raised to admire the storm. Delphine crossed to the window and pulled the tightly wound vinyl carefully down until it touched the sill, cautious in her release to make sure it didn’t retract immediately from the haste of her effort. She had noticed there was a choreographed routine in the ranch house of manipulating window coverings to try to keep the heat at bay; she knew she was too late and wondered why Cosima had not shut it when she left. She drew on her clothes and grabbed her boots, descending into the kitchen below.

 

 _Let’s talk_. The note had read. _Find me. –S_

 

As she stepped off the ranch house porch, the coffee in her cup that warmed her hands on cooler mornings, scorched her flesh; its diffusion accelerated by the powerful rays of the mid-morning sun beating down upon the Double S. She had heard it called a dry heat more than once by acquaintances who had traveled west. On the East Coast, the air felt thick. Heat drew perspiration from the pores, but the air, already saturated, would not reclaim it, could offer no relief. Sweat, thick and persistent, soaked the clothes and stung the eyes and ruined the mood of anyone unfortunate enough to be in the sweltering summer heat for long. In Nevada, the temperatures rivaled and often exceeded those of Amherst at this time of year, but aside from a dampness that darkened her hair-line, Delphine always felt remarkably dry. The desert air, perpetually thirsty, reclaimed water from any source as quickly as it could. Perspiration no sooner eked forth from her pores than it was swallowed by the parched climate. The efficiency of evaporation to cool the body astounded her… not to say that she did not feel hot at times; she absolutely did. The heat simply failed to oppress her in any significant way. Yet despite all this, she still found herself glad to have spotted Siobhan on the porch of the guesthouse cleaning her saddle. The desert, for Delphine, held many delights, and the temperature difference from sun to shade was decidedly a favorite, especially when it meant the difference between enjoying her coffee or not.

 

“Good morning, love.” Siobhan greeted her, a glancing brush of eye contact, the usual warmth of her tone somewhat forced. “Sit down. Sit down.” She patted the chair next to her. Delphine took the seat. She set her coffee down and waited to be addressed. But Siobhan made no move to speak, rather she kept her body turned just away from Delphine, attending to the saddle slung over the railing of the porch. The cloth wrapped tight around two fingers moved in tight, fast circles over the surface of the leather; she paused occasionally to dip into a small tub of lanolin before resuming the measured rhythm of her work. Her focus was keen and Delphine did not feel self-conscious watching her. The leather transformed with the application of the sheepish smelling oil, gaining weight and luster before her eyes. Her own tack had never been her responsibility, and she lamented it now watching the deft maneuvers of the woman to her left. Siobhan dropped the rag and switched to a natural bristle toothbrush, forcing oil into the crevices and creases of the saddle, sure not to neglect a millimeter of its surface. Finally, she grabbed a clean rag and wiped her hands before turning on her chair to better face Delphine. “It’s not the nicest of smells on a warm summer’s day.” she observed.

 

“Perhaps.” Delphine acknowledged, “but it is not unpleasant either.”

 

“The smell of the Earth and wool.” Siobhan pushed the lid onto the tin of fat and pushed it away from them. “Not unpleasant, no. But there is such a thing as too much of it.”

 

Delphine chuckled. “Oui. D’accord.” She picked up her coffee, which remained remarkably warm considering how long it had sat ignored on the table. She hated to waste a cup of coffee no matter how engaging the reason.

 

“How did you enjoy the storm last night?” Siobhan inquired, pointedly.

 

“I enjoyed it very much.” Delphine answered openly, wrapping her fingers around the now pleasing warmth of the ceramic. “Cosima talked about the smell of the desert after the rain. I was glad to know the scent.” Siobhan smiled knowingly. “And the power of the thunder and the lightning. I cannot explain it but I had not anticipated such storms away from the ocean.”

 

“Desert storms. Ocean storms. I had the same thoughts when I moved here from Ireland.” Siobhan had never spoken about her home before. “I was born in Cork, on the banks of the River Lee.”

 

“On the actual river bank?” Delphine’s eyebrows popped in inquiry.

 

“To be sure, my ma was a stubborn woman. When my pa first took her out courting, they watched the sunset there, so when her water broke on their Sunday stroll, she took it as a sign that she was supposed to watch it again. He took it as a sign they should go to hospital.”

 

“He was right!!” Delphine insisted, after a pregnant pause.

 

“I was born at eight o’five in the evening. The sunset at eight seventeen that night.” Siobhan smiled at the story she had heard her father tell countless times growing up. “Besides the river though, we lived on Cork Harbor. And the gales, dear sweet Jesus… some nights I thought the town would blow away.” Delphine nodded in rejoinder of their shared experience. “It took me years to not miss the smell of the sea on the wind.”

 

“Why did you leave?” Delphine inquired, taking a sip from her cup.

 

“Oh love, that’s the story of another lifetime, isn’t it?” Siobhan wondered out loud.

 

“Perhaps, but I’d still like to know.” She leaned forward onto the table, elbows bent, supporting the coffee cup with both hands. Delphine invited confidence with silence. She had done it with Cosima and Siobhan was no less immune.

 

“I suppose I can spare the condensed version. When I was a girl, after the Great War, Ireland fought to be Ireland; and once we were Ireland we fought each other, trying to control what it meant to be Irish. When talk of Hitler and his doings on the mainland reached our wireless, I decided I would prefer not to bear witness to any more fighting. I bought a ticket on a steamer bound for New York; the Depression hit everyone so hard – I thought Cork had been bad– but there were no jobs at all in New York. So I bought a ticket for San Francisco. On the train, I met a woman named Clara. She talked about cocktailing like it was the road to Eldorado. So when we got here, I stayed here. The rest as they say, is history.”

 

“You were a cocktail waitress? In a Casino?” Delphine was shocked by the revelation.

 

“I was, at the Nevada Club. For ten years. Well, I started as a cigarette girl, but cocktailing was the big event. Eight years of sore feet and shite tips, before Siobhan Sadler became the proud owner of the Double S.”

 

“What a remarkable life.” Delphine marveled at the history Siobhan had lived through, both personal and societal.

 

“Oh Delphine, all lives are remarkable once they are long enough.” Siobhan offered. “Look at yours. At Alison’s.”

 

Delphine rolled her eyes; unconvinced her life was worthy of remark just yet.

 

“You came to the desert, love, to leave behind an life that didn’t suit you, to find a life that does. So far our stories are not particularly different.” Delphine smiled at the older woman’s observation.

 

“I guess that is true.” Delphine admitted.

 

“And have you found something that suits you?” The older woman reached out and covered Delphine’s hand with her own.

 

“You’re talking about Cosima.” Delphine turned her hand under Siobhan’s and squeezed. A tear sprung to her eye.

 

“Yes, love. I am.” Siobhan’s gaze turned liquid as well. Gravity imbued her words.

 

“I have.” Then tear spilled over her eyelid.

 

“You’re sure?” Siobhan was direct, serious.

 

“Yes.” Delphine responded. “I have never felt so strong as I do when I am with her. She makes me feel like the impossible is possible. Non.” Delphine stopped herself. “She is the impossible; she is the want I never knew I had until she was right in front of me.”

 

Siobhan was silent for a moment. Her eyes searched Delphine’s features for a crack, any flaw that might reveal her insincerity or make her blush at her own romantic sentiments. Delphine’s countenance was relaxed and open and unashamed. It was a very long moment before Siobhan spoke.

 

“Delphine, I won’t lie to you. I thought she had lost her senses when she told me this morning. In fact, I was ready to run you out of my house for disrupting her life.” Delphine’s brow creased; suddenly disoriented by Siobhan’s words she listened harder, tried to remember what news Cosima might have delivered to her mother that would cause such a worry. “I know my daughter; she can be emotional and rash, and she has reason to be, but I’d so much rather see her running toward something than away from it.” Delphine was still confused, but she supposed running could be a metaphor for their relationship. “I’ll be glad to have her closer to home too, so I guess I should thank you for that.”

 

Delphine finally moved her hand out from Siobhan’s grasp; she wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Siobhan.” she said, “I am a little confused. What did Cosima tell you?” she probed.

 

“Delphine,” Siobhan’s brow creased as well. “she told me about transferring to Berkeley. She is going to enroll for fall courses.” Delphine had heard enough. She pushed her chair violently back and stood.

 

“Like hell she is.” Delphine growled and marched off the front porch, making a b-line for the back forty, where Cosima and her brothers were spending the morning welding patches on some rusted out watering tubs. “Cosima!” she yelled as she walked. “Cosima!!!! We need to talk.”


	35. Sacred Heart

“No, Cosima.” Delphine insisted, “you can’t.” She slammed her hands down flat on the table harder than she had meant to; the sting pierced deep into her joints.

 

“Well you know what Delphine? Actually, I can.” Cosima mirrored Delphine’s posture, each leaning over opposite ends of the breakfast table. She stared the woman down; adrenaline coursing through her veins, intensifying her emotions and weakening her inhibitions. “You just don’t want me to.”

 

Incensed by such an accusation, but unable to argue with its substance, Delphine shot back loudly, “You are right; I don’t.”

 

Cosima had been taken quite by surprise when she heard Delphine’s voice echoing across the ranch. There was urgency and a tension in it.

 

“Uh oh,” Donnie joked, also hearing the unmistakable note of rebuke in Delphine’s voice.

 

“Someone’s in trouble…” Paul added, unnecessarily.

 

“Shut up.” Cosima threw over her shoulder; her posture stiff despite the easiness with which the siblings had labored through out the morning. Delphine was approaching, quickly; her gait measured and her fists clenched. Something had her dander up, and Cosima was quite at a loss for what it might have been.

 

“Cosima!” the sharp edges of the word left the other woman in no doubt that she had some sort of explaining to do. She shucked off the leather gloves that had protected her hands from the heat of the welder and tossed them down on the ground.

 

“I’ll be right back.” The words tossed over her shoulder, she strode out to intercept the agitated woman approaching them.

 

“Not from the looks of it.” Paul observed; Donnie smirked at him knowingly, raising his eyebrow and whistling.

 

“Seriously,” Cosima shot back in a piercing whisper, “shut up!”

 

Her pace quickened to a jog; she met Delphine about a hundred yards off from where the boys sat, staring at them. “Hey,” she called out pleasantly as she approached, “what’s going on?” She reached out to try to grab her hand as soon as she was close enough, but Delphine jerked her arm away.

 

“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “How could you say such things to your mother? How could you exclude me from this?” The bottom fell out of Cosima’s stomach.

 

“Exclude you?” Cosima balked. “I was trying to surprise you.” She reached out again, but Delphine anchored her hands to her hips.

 

“Well, you certainly accomplished that.” she huffed. “Cosima, how could you possibly think this is a good idea?”

 

“We are talking about the Berkeley thing right?” Cosima clarified cautiously.

 

“Yes,” Delphine snapped, “we are talking about _the Berkeley thing_ , which I did not even know was a thing until your mother told me.”

 

“Right, well, like I said I wanted to surprise you.” Cosima offered in defense of her choice. “I had no idea that Siobhan would tell you before I could, but I’m not sure I understand why you’re so upset right now.” As she said it, however, a flood of reasons cascaded through her brain, none of them comforting. “Is it that awful to think of? Me coming to be closer to you?”

 

“Don’t be stupid.” Delphine retorted, “Why on Earth would you not talk to me about this decision when it impacts both of us?”

 

“Oh, you mean like you talked to me when you decided to move in down the hallway from me?” Cosima shot back quickly; her easiness turned to ire on a dime. “I thought that’s what we did, Delphine.”

 

“That is a ludicrous comparison, as you are well aware.” She noticed that Donnie and Paul were still watching even though they pretended to work.

 

“I’m not sure I see the difference at all.” Cosima crossed her arms in front of her heart. “Why don’t you explain it to me, Delphine.” Her own name hit her ears like a dagger; her reply was swift. She stepped to Cosima and whispered harshly.

 

“My decision to move four miles across town for six weeks can hardly be compared to uprooting a life you have spent years building to move 3000 miles away.”

 

“Oh wow! Delphine!” Cosima rolled her eyes, stepping away to widen the gap between them “That is rich. You do realize you just described yourself, don’t you! You uprooted your life and are moving 3000 miles away. You can do it! So why can’t I?”

 

“And you think I made that decision lightly? On a whim?” Her temper seethed, and her eyes pierced. “It’s not the same, Cosima. I’m moving on. My degree is finished. I’m moving on, with out Phillip. This is my next step. Does Berkeley even have a neurobiology program?” Cosima reeled against the sheer rationality of the question,and rationalized a response.  


“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I can change my emphasis. Change my thesis.”

 

“That is idiotic! Why would you do that?” Delphine asked.

 

“For you!” came Cosima’s emphatic and earnest reply. Delphine laughed incredulously.

 

“You honestly think I’d ask you to do that; after my experiences with Philip? You think I’d ask you to do that, for me?” Silence hung between them for a moment

 

“Right, of course, _you_ wouldn’t ask.” Cosima snarked. “ You’re so damn sure of yourself and everything you do.”

 

“I’m not asking you to throw your life away for me, Cosima. I won’t do it!” Delphine shouted.

 

“I’m not throwing my life away Delphine! I just want to try to live it with you! I had no idea my transferring would upset you so much.” she yelled back, then set off toward the house. Her next words were exacting. “Clearly, I was wrong.” Delphine stood in silence for a moment, eyes to the sky. She drew a long slow breath deep into her lungs and released it in a growl. She set off in pursuit, lagging by a good fifteen to twenty strides.

 

“Cosima, wait.” she called out. Her words were either ineffective or inaudible; Cosima kept her quick, long pace, each foot falling in time with the aggravated beat of her heart. “Cosima.” Delphine double her own pace to close the gap. “Cosima, please.”

 

An apparent acquiescence, Cosima stopped dead in her tracks, but did not turn around. Delphine approached her, and when they were finally face to face, the fiery ice in Cosima’s gaze almost stole her resolve.

 

“Just, explain it to me.” she said as calmly as she could. “I want to understand.”

 

“I just assumed. I assumed you’d be happy.” Cosima said, “Or maybe I was just hoping you would be.” She resumed her course toward the farmhouse; Delphine following close behind.

 

“Cosima, this isn’t about me being happy or not being happy this is about your work.” She spoke clearly, directly. They crossed the porch and entered the ranch house. Cosima walked straight to the kitchen; she ripped open a cupboard and grabbed a glass. “It’s about years of _hard_ work and discovery and learning. It’s about the sketches you showed me on the train.” Cosima wrenched on the kitchen faucet and filled her glass, she drained it in a short serious of loud gulps.

 

            “It’s just a specialty, Delphine. A research topic. I can change it anytime I want.”

 

Delphine forbade it.

Cosima countered and accused.

_You just don’t want me to._

_“_ You’re right. I don’t want you to.” Delphine fired back.

 

            “Why?” Cosima challenged. They held each other’s stares across the expanse of the breakfast table. The strained hum of the refrigerator motor giving voice to the thread of tension that vibrated between them. Delphine spoke in a calm and measured tone. Relaxing her features slightly.

 

            “Because it makes no sense, Cosima.” she reasoned.

 

            “Or maybe,” Cosima’s tone continued to descend into acerbic vitriol, “it makes perfect sense. Or would if you actually loved me.” Her retort, as quick as it was cruel, hit Delphine hard. She stood upright again, drew her head and shoulders back away from sting of such thoughtless words. She was aware that silence was likely the enemy of resolution on this point, but she had been forced to pause. How could Cosima so misperceive her? Then she understood.

 

            “Emily!” Delphine interjected.

 

            “What?!” the name had caught Cosima’s attention.

 

            “Emily.” Delphine continued; she crossed around the table, determined to diffuse some of the emotion in the conversation. She stood beside Cosima and insisted, “I’m not Emily.” Cosima’s nerves began to tremble more loudly than her fears.

 

            “Obviously, you’re not her.” Cosima observed, sardonically. “What does she have to do with anything?”

 

            “She has to do with everything,” Delphine asserted, “All of this.”

 

            “Yeah, right.” Cosima tried to preserve the hard edge to her tone, but Delphine’s had softened it a bit.

 

            “Sit.” she suggested, trying to pull out the chair that sat tucked under the table in front of Cosima. The woman didn’t move.

 

“I think I’d rather stand.” she answered.

 

“Well, I’m going to sit.” Delphine slid another chair down the length of the table and sat close to Cosima. She ached to reach out, but it was clear she did not wish to be touched. “I think I am understanding something, and I want to ask you about it. May I ask you?”

 

“Knock yourself out.” Cosima sneered. Her arms were crossed again and her eyes veiled shut.

 

“No.” Delphine decided. “I don’t think I will.” Cosima huffed loudly. Delphine stood and cautiously approached Cosima. She leaned in and lay a tender kiss on each of her cheeks. “I’ll be at the Riverside. Come see me when you are ready to talk.”


	36. Tip of My Tongue

Delphine opened the hotel room door. She stepped into a mass of too still, too warm air. Crossing to the window, she lifted the first stiff pane in its track, and then the other, an ultimately futile effort to subdue the sweltering scorch of the desert day. The air simply refused to move. Everything, in fact, was static, despite a palpable simmering just below the surface.

 

            She stood, arms crossed staring out the window at the river. It promised a sweet relief from the stifling climate; impulsively she crossed to her neglected bedchamber and made for the closet until she remembered that her entire wardrobe, including her bathing clothes were back at the ranch.

 

            “Merde,” she cursed. She called the front desk and asked for the concierge. After a brief and terse conversation, she hung up and dropped herself down onto the couch. She stared at her boots, which she propped up on the table in front of her, listening to the noise from the street below and waiting, though she would deny it, for the sound of the telephone. As she studied the wing tip on her toes, she could not help but feel each second as it ticked by. Every few moments, a rush of certainty that any moment Cosima would make herself known, and then a depressing realization that the moment had stretched too far and that she was still simply waiting. She wished she’d thought to bring anything back with her to occupy her mind. She wasn’t uncertain how long she spent in that tense, but silent reverie. Eventually, the patterns of the traffic noise from far below lulled her into a semi-meditative state, so she jumped when there was a knock at the door. She stood quickly and straightened her clothes. She crossed to the door and gathered herself before reaching for the doorknob. She did not wish to betray the actual relief that she was feeling considering the gravity of the conversation she faced. Finally, she grasped the handle and, audibly exhaling one final time, turned it gently.

 

            “Hello,” she said, before the door was truly open.

 

            “Your delivery, Mrs. Bowles.” came a voice that was decidedly not Cosima’s. Her mind started at the sound of her married name, and her heart sank at the masculine timber. The bellhop handed her the bag from Woolworth’s. She retrieved a few coins, a small tip, from her billfold and sent the young man on his way. She called the front desk and asked that the staff use her maiden name from that point forward.

 

            “Of course, Ms. Cormier. We’ll make a note of that on the registry.”

 

            She took the bag back to her bedroom and removed its contents. The same suit in two sizes, a yellow halter-top and white short pants, both with sufficient rouching to be fashionable, but not gaudy. She’d have to compliment the concierge on his taste. She quickly disrobed and tried on the new suits. Satisfied with the fit of the second more than the first, she kept it on and threw her shirt back on over the ensemble, content to let the tails hang loose so as to disguise the fact that she had not re-buttoned her dungarees. She slipped on her boots again and retrieved a towel from the bathroom. She made sure to tuck her key into her pocket and then set off down the hall. As she approached the elevator she anticipated the doors sliding open and having to explain to Cosima that she was just going to go for a swim. When they slid open to reveal only an empty car, Delphine’s anxiety started to rise again. Were there two lifts? Might she cross paths with Cosima on her way up to the top floor? When she departed the elevator in the lobby, she had to scan the entire place twice before she truly believed that Cosima still had not appeared. She walked to the front desk. Had anyone called for her.

 

            “No messages, Mrs. Bowles.” the man affirmed; she shook her head at the name again and asked him to make a note that the staff should address her by her maiden name from that point forward. “Yes, ma’am, let me just note that here in the registry.” He made to write but stopped short, “Oh I see someone already has. My apologies Ms… Cormeer?”

 

“Cormier.” she corrected. “It’s French.”

 

“Cormier. Of course, ma’am.” He smiled stiffly.

 

She crossed to the Riverside’s river side exit; turning, she watched a few patrons move in and out of the front door, but each silhouette was so unlike Cosima it frustrated her to watch. She walked out into the midday sun, but instantly began to dread being long absent. She made her way to the waters edge and quickly shucked off her ranch clothes and stepped into the river’s chilly mountain water. The temperature shocked her flesh, but it was undoubtedly more pleasant than standing on dry land. She dipped her hands into the clear waters and bathed her arms and neck. Finally, quite on impulse, she bent at the waist and let her hair be dragged along by the cooling current. She gathered her tresses carefully in her hand and squeezed them dry a bit before slowly rolling up to her full height again. In her mind, she retraced her steps down the hall to the elevator and out to the riverbank. She’d been gone only a few minutes, but struggled with the possibility of being absent even a second too long. She grabbed the towel and wrapped her body in it. Assured again that there were “No messages, Ms. Cormier.” _Merci._ She returned to the top floor retreat.

 

            “Emily.” Cosima grumbled. She grabbed the back of the chair in front of her, lifted it and slammed it down on the ground. She stormed out of the kitchen and across to the living room, in wide, loud strides. If Siobhan Sadler had owned a china cabinet the dishes would have rattled. She complained loudly to the air about _know it all French scientist_ s and false inferences. She paced the length of the house. “Of all the idiotic...” She seethed, her entire body wound tightly into coils of frustration. Her limbs felt cocked and loaded, ready to fire. “Who the hell does she think she is…?” She wanted to run. To fight. She needed to lay down. She threw herself back onto the couch hard, knocking her head against the wooden frame of the arm.

 

“Son of a bitch! God damn it all to hell!”

 

She shot back up to her feet holding the back of her head with both hands. Siobhan had alighted the porch, just in time to hear her daughter’s spray of colorful language.

 

            “Are you alright, love?” she cautioned, having made her way a few steps into the house. Cosima winced and inhaled loudly through her teeth.

 

            “You’re a fine one to ask.” Cosima sniped back. “I might have been except for you and your god-damned interfering!” Siobhan’s eye flew wide open; she cocked her head to the side and spoke.

 

            “That’s one.”

 

            “Stop it, S!” she shouted. “I’m not a damn child anymore.”

 

“Well you’re still my child and _that,_ that is two.” Her mother added. “Now calm down, Cosima.” She spoke firmly and clearly.

 

“Oh, right? I can totally do that.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Delphine just tore me apart and you want me calm the hell down.”

 

“That’s three.” Siobhan continued. “Now stop cursing at me.”

 

“Oh hell’s bell’s.” Cosima threw her arms down at her sides. “Fine.” She stomped passed her mother toward the door.

 

“That’s four. Come back when those stalls are clean and you are ready to talk to me in a calm tone of voice.”

 

She thundered into the barn. “Four stalls, my ass!” she yelled once she was inside. “I’m not a fucking child!” Her words likely didn’t reach the ranch house, but she liked to imagine that they did. She grabbed a shovel and threw it in the wheelbarrow, then stomped the materials over to the first stall. She wrenched the tool out of the large bin; its uneven weight getting the better of her grip, she hit herself in the face.

 

“Dammit!” she yelled, gaining control of the unwieldy spade with both hands and slamming to the ground. Rage beat with the rhythm of her heart, wings of a raptor trying to escape her rib caging.

 

“Emily.” She grumbled one more time and retrieved the shovel with more control now than less.

 

She stepped into the stall and began mucking. With each scoop of filth and saw dust, she vented an ungenerous and hateful thought to the air, each one landing away from her person like so much manure in a wheelbarrow. By the end of the second stall she was appreciably calmer. By the third, she began to feel sorry for how she had spoken to Siobhan; she cleaned the forth out of obligation, and a fifth because she felt badly about torrent of obscenities she had launched at her mother when she walked into the barn. Siobhan may have even given her six, but what her mother didn’t hear… she laughed to herself.

 

When she exited the barn, she found Siobhan on the porch sipping a glass of sun tea; a second glass of ice sat waiting to be filled from the pitcher also on the table. She explained as she passed that she needed to wash up before she could actually relax.

 

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Siobhan called after her, playfully. “You smell like shit, but don’t forget your ice. It’s melting.”

 

Cosima stopped and leaned back out the ranch house doorframe. “Hey Siobhan,” she smiled, “that’s one.” And with a wink she was back inside.

 

 

Delphine sat in silence on the settee in the hotel lobby; she had ventured down to find a magazine or a book to read to kill the mid afternoon doldrums; she had eaten lunch and dinner was too far off to be preoccupying. She found a copy of _LIFE_ , the one she had been reading on the train. She opened it meaning to finish the article about the white haired woman in the wading boots, clearly on some holiday with her very important political husband, but instead the periodical lay open in her lap, neglected for the more captivating sight that caught her attention. A man had sat down across from her; he was reading. There was not much remarkable about the man himself; he was of average height and build, possibly in his late thirties or early forties, wearing a casual tan suit, also ordinary. His features were inconspicuous as well, but the book he was reading demanded her attention. On its cover a brunette stood, back to the viewer. She wore a brown slip slit at the left side. She was naked from the waist up, her matching brassiere dangled from her left hand. Across from her, a blond woman in a white negligée, head tucked and eyes cut to the side, stared suggestively in her direction. _Anything Goes_ she read the block print itle. It was clearly a dime store novel, the kind her friends consumed in massive quantities at the beauty parlor or the beach. But her friends read westerns and detective novels. This she gathered was neither, but the poor print quality and 50-cent price point put it in the same genre, she was sure.

 

The image fascinated her, as did the fact that the man was reading such a book out in the open. She must have walked passed images like these before on books at the drug store counter, but she had no reason to take particular note of them. Her pleasure reading was most often a bit more high-brow. _LIFE_ after all felt like a silly indulgence with its focus on celebrity and lifestyle. Yet as she stared at the cover of this book she felt at once drawn, and exposed and wanted very much to read it. With out realizing she had, she leaned closer over her lap to study the cover more closely. She squinted and tried to make out the tag line. _The immoral story of a love-starved temptress.._ was as far as she got when a voice made her jump.

 

“Have you read it?” he man asked. He’d caught her staring.

 

“No.” she stumbled, her mind raced with questions. “I wasn’t… I mean I haven’t”

 

“I bought it at the Woolworths this morning,” he remarked, “If you’re that interested.” And then he winked at her.

 

“I’m…” she barely knew how to respond. Her heart raced and panic flooded her system. “I’m not.” She settled on and then stood abruptly and walked to the front desk.

 

“Still no messages, Ms. Cormier.” The young man stated, clearly beginning to tire of the question she had not yet asked.

 

“No.” she said in hushed but hurried tones. “I only wondered if it would be possible to get tea and croissant up to my room. Herbal tea please.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Cormier. The tea won’t be a problem, but I am afraid we don’t have croissants available.”

 

“Of course,” she said, disappointed. “Well what is the Reno equivalent?”

 

“Biscuits and gravy, I’d say. The kitchen make great biscuits from scratch every day.”

 

“Fine, then.” She agreed. “Biscuits and tea. No gravy please.”

 

“Right. Biscuits, no gravy,” he made a note. “Give us 45 minutes or so; it’s after 3 o’clock and these are usually breakfast fare.”

 

“Merci.” She answered and rode the lift back up to her room.

 

She could not get the image of the book from her head, or more specifically the thoughts they inspired, thoughts of her and Cosima and the love they had made in this room and Cosima’s and by the waters of Lake Tahoe. _Immoral story of a love starved temptress._ She cringed at the words. Immoral. Love-starved. How grotesquely they made her feel. She replayed the moment in her mind. The myriad emotions she had felt, even the amusement, until he had spoken to her. When she had read the word _immoral_ she hadn’t felt that way. It wasn’t until he spoke, until she felt exposed that she felt those words. _Love-starved._ Is that how people might see her? Might see them? Unclean, desperate, aberrant? She felt ill. She grew impatient for both her food and for Cosima.

 

When the phone finally rang she picked it up desperate to hear Cosima’s voice. “Chèrie,” she whispered quickly, “please come up. Now.”

 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cormier, this is the kitchen. These notes are unclear. Which kind of jam would you like with your biscuits.”

 

More embarrassed than she could conceive of being, she agreed to the marmalade and hung up the phone. Tears began to well up in her eyes. She damned her naiveté and her pride. She did not know this man, and she had allowed him to make her feel afraid. She wiped the occasional tear from her cheek and sat, lost for how to explain her reaction. A few moments later, a knock came at the door. She straightened herself and sniffed back the sadness. She retrieved a dollar bill to tip the waiter. She spoke as she opened the door.

 

“Just leave the tray please and be on your way.” She held the dollar bill out. A familiar voice answered from behind a domed lid.

 

“I already tipped him extra for letting me deliver your tray.”

 

“Cosima!” she exclaimed.

 

She contained her impulse until her much anticipated, but unexpected guest put the tray on the dinette table, then she threw her arms around the woman she’d waited so long for and sobbed.

 

“I am so sorry.”


	37. You are My Sunshine

_It was no longer a question of proceeding with caution, of “learning how.” The whole night passed like an ecstatic dream, punctuated with a few dead-asleep time-outs, when they were both too exhausted to move, even to make themselves comfortable._

_Beebo had only a vague idea of what she was doing, beyond the overwhelming fact that she was making ardent love to Paula. She seemed to have no mind at all, or need of one. She was aware only that Paula was beautiful, she was warmly loving, and she was there in Beebo’s arms: fragrant and soft and auburn-topped as a bouquet of tiger lilies._

_Beebo couldn’t let her go. And when fatigue forced her to stop she would pull Paula close and stroke her, her heavy breath stirring Paula’s glowing hair, and think about all the girls she had wanted and been denied. She was making up, this night, for every last one of them._

Delphine paused in her reading. An early morning trip to Woolworth’s had afforded her the opportunity to not only return the swimsuit she had decided against, but also to slip in, among her sundries, a novel. In truth the toiletries were a rouse. She walked the aisles of the drugstore with a small hand basket, passing more than once in front of the dime novels. Certain that it was more than common for a woman to peruse the pulp fiction for suitable summer distraction, her preoccupation with the display was of so singular a focus she could not help feeling exposed simply in her wandering. The empty basket on her arm exposed the fullness of her thoughts. She turned up the bath aisle.

 

Some shampoo she slipped into her bin and then some shaving soap. She pretended to be making a decision about talcum powder, lingering in false contemplation before returning the bottle to the shelf and turning back around. Moving slowly, she cut her eyes sideways, hoping to glimpse the cover art now burned on her brain. Upon her first pass, she narrowed down a few prospects, then meandered to the pharmacy grabbing a small bottle of aspirin before returning back. She lingered in front of the rack, eyes searching for the burnt orange background, but none of the hues was just right. _Except maybe that one,_ she mused. She looked left, then right, grateful that even in a 24 hour town the pre-dawn hours afforded one a modicum of solitude while shopping. She reached for a book that might have been the one. It was not. She returned it to its place and walked the aisles, adding white cotton bobby socks and a hairbrush to her basket.

 

The next time she returned to the rack, she allowed herself to examine more than one title. The art was all so amusingly campy. Women crouched over one another, hungrily. _Trapped by their forbidden love_. Looming predatory gazes. Innocent housewives. _Strange loved stripped them of all decency._ Women dancing with abandon. _Was she a depraved animal or a confused woman yearning for experience?_ She smiled at each one of these caricatures and their captions, wondering how these women might be written. What they thought or felt.

 

“Can I help you find something particular?” the woman from the prescription counter asked; Delphine started and immediately dropped the copy of _This Can’t be Love_.

 

“I’m fine,” Delphine bent to pick up the book and hastily returned it to the shelf, “I’m sorry, you startled me.”

 

“Looking for a little light reading?” The woman wore a name placard that read Ms. Jones. “Or something to spark up the evening.” She winked.

 

“I….” Delphine stumbled. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” The woman looked her up and down and then smiled.

 

“It happens.” she offered. “Especially in this town.”

 

“Oui,” Delphine echoed the sentiment, “Excuse me,” she said and gathered her things to leave.

 

“Beebo Brinker.” The woman stated simply, after Delphine turned on her heel to disappear. “If you’re looking for a happy ending. If not, any of the ones you picked up will do.”

 

Delphine froze. She turned slowly back to face the woman. She was tall and thin. Her hair was rolled neatly at the sides and back, professional, but not elegantly so. Her square jawline made her features a bit mannish. She wore mascara perhaps, and some rouge, and a red lipstick that seemed out of place on her lips. Delphine wondered if perhaps this woman was a homosexual.

 

“Beebo…?” Delphine’s voice trailed off in question.

 

“Brinker.” She said and came around the counter. She walked directly to the rack and lifted a book out. She handed it to Delphine. The cover was decidedly different than the others, muted, brown. A solitary figure dressed in an olive jacket and flat shoes, held a wicker suitcase under a secluded street sign. “ _Lost, lonely, boyishly appealing…”_ The tags left doubt that the book engaged the sort of content she was curious about, until she noticed the street names. One was illegible the other clear as day. Whoever this Beebo Brinker was she stood at the intersection of somewhere and Gay St. The subtlety won Delphine over. That, and of course, _and_ the promise of a happy ending. She thanked Ms. Jones for her guidance and slipped the volume into her basket. She paid for her items, unable to hold eye contact with the clerk– a truth that annoyed her but that also seemed immutable– and then beat a hasty retreat back to the Riverside.

 

The final words she read hit her hard. “ _She would stop and think about all the girls she had wanted and been denied. She was making up, this night, for every last one of them,”_. Beebo Brinker, a farm girl who knew little of life or herself (except that she was in some tangible way different from the other girls) discovers love in the arms of a beautiful starlet, and, in doing so, finds herself. There was enough of Cosima in the main character and enough of her own experience in the story to inspire a craving for Cosima that was both emotional and visceral. She ached. She rose. She returned to the bed where she had left her beloved sleeping.

 

They had stayed up late –very late– talking and her intention had been to allow Cosima as much rest as her body would take. She hoped, slipping back into bed and wrapping herself around the other woman, not to wake her, but Cosima stirred with the shifting of weight on the mattress.

 

 _Mmmmm,_ she moaned. “Good morning.” Delphine settled her body into the spaces where they both fit together, draping an arm over Cosima’s torso and breathing in the smell of her hair.

 

“Good Morning, mon amour.” Delphine whispered. “Now,” she cooed, “go back to sleep.” Cosima chuckled and then acquiesced.

 

“Mmmkay.” she mumbled.

 

They shifted slightly, the weight of their bodies settling into the mattress and pillows. It wasn’t long before the rhythm of Cosima’s breath became regular and deep. Delphine felt herself skirting the edge of sleep as well, but she could not quite descend into the depths of somnolence. She contented herself with the curious half dreams and memories of the previous night that bridged the gap between her conscious and unconscious mind.

 

Cosima, who had been completely taken aback by Delphine’s enthusiastic, if emotional greeting, reached out.

 

“Hey, wait whoa. No. Delphine, why are you apologizing?!” She took the woman’s head, which had been cast downward, between her hands and pulled their eyes level. “Delphine, I was a total ass.” She wiped the wet stains from the other woman’s cheeks. “Just ask Siobhan.”

 

“No. No you weren’t.” Delphine shook her head in vehement protest. “You were trying to show me you loved me,” she sobbed, “and I acted like you were trying to injure or insult me.”

 

“Well. First, thank you for seeing that.” Cosima offered. “And sure, I thought I was showing you love, but I did it in a desperate and selfish way. You were right. To tell Siobhan before you, to even risk that you’d hear my plans from anyone but me… well, I kind of set myself up for that.”

 

“No, no. It was fine.” Delphine interjected, “It is your life. You can do what you feel is best for you, and it is not my place to tell you what that is. Of course you wanted Siobhan’s advice.”

 

“But you made some really good points Delphine.” Cosima insisted. “It’s a huge decision and it impacts us both.” There was a brief pause in the conversation, and Cosima became instantly uneasy that the presumption that had driven her disclosure to Siobhan might still stain her words now. “…or at least I hoped it would.” Delphine took Cosima’s hand and led her to the couch. They sat on the edge of the settee, turned knee to knee; Delphine kept Cosima’s hands in hers and stroked the back of it with her thumb.

 

“Of course. Of course it would.” She assured Cosima. “And I led you think I didn’t want it.” Cosima squeezed her hand

 

“Delphine, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“But it does.” Delphine insisted. “I hurt you I think.” Cosima’s countenance betrayed neither a confirmation nor a refutation of Delphine’s assertions. “You were so angry.”

 

“Yeah, I was... hurt I mean, and I let it make me angry.” Cosima admitted. “And I know I hurt you too.”

 

“When you said I didn’t love you.” Delphine confessed. “It frightened me to think you believed that.”

 

“Yeah well, I really shouldn’t talk when I am angry.”

 

“Perhaps neither of us should.” Delphine offered.

 

“So are we ok?” Cosima inquired. Delphine nodded, a tear welling in her eye.

 

“Oui.” she managed through the thickness in her throat.

 

“Good,” Cosima said standing. She lead Delphine toward the bedroom. “And we can talk about this more when ever you want.”

 

“Ok,” she acknowledged Cosima’s offer, “but not now.” She sniffed.

 

“Oh, I’m in no hurry.” Cosima agreed. “Well, not for that at least.” She winked at Delphine as she brought their bodies closer together. “But I would very much like to kiss you. Would that be alright?”

 

Delphine smiled through the last of her tears and answered wordlessly, with the gentle pressure of her lips.


	38. It’s Now or Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to all of you who take notice and read... I can’t say how sorry I am for the delay. I hope you enjoy the update.

Delphine loved to lie between Cosima’s legs after they made love, arms wrapped around a thigh or one draped over the hip she wasn’t using as a pillow. She curled herself into the warmth of the woman who’s pleasure was now the source of her own. Moving her hand across her lover’s body, she marveled at the silken skin; taught in places, stretched over bone or muscle; fluid in others; yielding with the softness underneath. The ordinary places of Cosima’s body, the swell of her stomach, the curve of her ribs, the slight jut of her pelvis, captivated Delphine every bit as much as the rise and crescendo of her arousal. From across crowded rooms or entire pastures, Delphine often fantasized about the next time Cosima would be hers.

 

She barely recognized herself in the weeks since arriving in Reno, and yet somehow here… stirred and longing (always longing)… she felt more herself than she ever had, and never more so than when she allowed herself to relish the sensations of her skin against Cosima’s. She tried in the in between times –when they were mending fences, or mucking stalls, or sitting down to meals– to conjure memories that might mollify her distracted mind, but recollection only ever seemed to amplify her ache rather than appease it.

 

Their love had weight, which thought could never quite distill into substance, so she lingered. Over all of it.

 

The first touches: Cosima’s wetness inviting her; pulling her closer, deeper. She moved slowly outside and in. Intentionally. Hoping her deliberateness gave Cosima half the pleasure it gave her. When she kissed Cosima there, she lingered over the swelling under her tongue, savoring the responses she could elicit by massaging here or there. And when Cosima would gasp, _oh my god._ Delphine would feel her own arousal spread through her groin.   She lingered during Cosima’s climax, keeping her hands, or mouth, or both stubbornly in place as the contractions came, regular at first, and as the pulsing became more erratic she would move again slowly, slightly; enticing the last bits of pleasure from Cosima’s spent body with a well timed stroke against shuddering flesh. And, of course, she lingered over the afterwards. Later her fingertips, her palms, nerve endings deep in her wrists that she didn’t even know she possessed would ache for satisfaction and, absent of Cosima’s actual presence, her wanting would remain, so she lingered, focused only on feeling.

 

The weeks since their fight had passed with out further incident. Cosima acquiesced that her rush to transfer had been as much grounded in fear as it had in passion; she continued to make inquiries about the feasibility of a change, while recognizing that it might be in her best interest to simply finish what she had started and follow her heart when the timing was right. Delphine set aside time to condense her thesis into a manuscript suitable for publication and had mailed it to her new advisor for final feedback. During the day, they fell into the easy rhythm of ranch life and at nights, more often than not, fell into the rhythm of love.

 

Siobhan had become accustomed to her daughter disappearing after coffee; she and Delphine often retreated to the privacy of the Riverside apartment, preferring a pre-dawn drive to the incessant, if endearing, harassment heaped upon them by Donnie and Paul, whose archness was ever inspired by the ardent declarations of love that rang through the hallways on evenings the women elected to stay.

 

“We won’t be back until lunchtime tomorrow, S.” Cosima reminded her mother, as she scrubbed up.

 

“Yes,” Delphine added, clearing away the remaining dishes, “Mr. Leekie requires a meeting the week before the proceeding, to make sure everything is in order.”  Siobhan dried the tongs she used to turn the fried chicken and nodded in recognition.

 

“Take your time,” she reassured them, stepping toward the range. “it’s customary, I think.” She returned the tongs to their place hanging on a board above the stove.  “I’ve never asked before, but what is the going cost of a divorce these days?” She took the wet cast iron skillet from her daughter’s hand.

 

“S!” Cosima cautioned with her tone.

 

“It’s fine,” Delphine shook her head dismissing Cosima’s concern, “Aldous Leekie charges a flat rate of 75 dollars; my attorney in Boston assured me it was the prevailing rate.” She crossed to sink, slipping her arm around Cosima’s waist as she slipped the dishes into the soapy water.

 

“Sweet Jesus! It’s highway robbery!” Siobhan exclaimed, working her towel over the black and seasoned pan; she swept around the inside, then stopped, inspected it more closely, and frowned. “Cosima, am I supposed to wipe off what you don’t wash off?” she chided. Delphine kissed Cosima, who rolled her eyes and retrieved the still greasy skillet from her mother, on the cheek then turned to fetch the glasses from the table, as Siobhan continued. “Seventy five dollars for three hours of work? It took me three months to save that much while I was cocktailing.” Cosima handed back the skillet.

 

“Is that better?”

 

Siobhan inspected it; satisfied, she replied, “Much.”

 

“Well,” Delphine responded, “if I could have known how it would all turn out, I’d have paid three times as much. Or rather,” she added impishly, “I would have let my father-in-law pay three times as much...” then winked at Siobhan knowingly, who laughed out loud.

 

“Amen to that, child.” Siobhan celebrated Delphine’s happiness as much as her daughter’s, but made sure to add, “In most cases though, it seems like taking advantage of a person at her lowest.”

 

“I wonder how much it would have been worth to Old Man Bowles if you’d fallen for me in Massachusetts?” Cosima mused, as she rinsed the plates and stacked them for Siobhan to dry. “You know, if I’d met you on the El instead of a cross country steamer.”

 

Delphine could not help but gasp. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Bowles men don’t get left, and they certainly don’t get left for …what was the phrase” she struggled to recall the words that had so arrested her mind in the hotel lobby, “oh yes… _a love-starved temptress._ ”

 

Cosima laughed out loud, then she stopped abruptly and barked a playfully incredulous “Hey!” She dried her hands on the towel Siobhan was still holding and marched over to Delphine stopping only centimeters from the other woman. She waggled an accusatory finger and chastised “Who are you calling love-starved?!?!”

 

Delphine couldn’t help but smile at Cosima’s affected indignation.

 

“You,” Delphine smiled and practically hummed back, wrapping Cosima up in her arms and kissing her softly, “You, my little temptress.”

 

Siobhan made a point of not looking, and though she kept her face turned down toward her chores, her smile was plain even from her profile.

 

“Juh-tem, Sherrie; Bessie mwah.” came a loud call from across the family room. Paul, who had been reading the paper, could not help but have his share in the fun.

 

Cosima pulled her lips away from Delphine’s and fired back. “How you mange to make French sound like the language of imbeciles is beyond me.” He paused briefly before responding, matter-of-factly.

 

“It’s a gift,” he claimed, “and only one of many the good Lord blessed me with.”

 

“Right,” Cosima said, their banter broke the veil of intimacy the women had not meant to drop between themselves and the rest of their company.

 

“Delphine, don’t you listen to her.” he called, “I have talents most men can only dream of possessing!”

 

“C’est vrai?” Delphine chuckled, releasing Cosima and turning to face her blustering brother.

 

“Wee, say absolutely vray. And they aren’t even all with the ladies.” Delphine’s eyes shot wide at his assertion, and Cosima mumbled something skeptically under her breath.

 

“He does make a very good chocolate soufflé,” Siobhan interjected, quite sincerely,

 

“Mmmmmm.” Delphine’s eye softened again as she moaned. “Je meurs d’envie de manger un soufflé au chocolat. Paul, s’il te plait, make one; next Thursday. We can celebrate the sullying of my reputation.”

 

“After my soufflé, your reputation won’t be the only thing sullied!” he cajoled, standing up he crossed to the kitchen and paused next to his sister. “Look out, monkey; my culinary prowess is gonna be the thing that wins Ms. Cormier’s heart away from you!”

 

“You think so, huh?” his sister mused. “Go ahead, try.”

 

“I do and I will, with flair.” He grinned playfully, stepping toward her. “Delphine, keep an open mind!” he winked.

 

“Possibly.” Delphine replied, stepping closer to him and whispering into his right ear, “but you should know, Paul, that your sister also has many gifts, especially when it comes to _the ladies_.”

 

An amused smirk crept across his face as she spoke; he shook his head and chuckled under his breath, admiringly; then turned to his sister, “you better not let her get away.” And with that he made his exit out into the night.

 

It wasn’t long after Paul’s departure that Delphine and Cosima made theirs as well. They each kissed Siobhan on the cheek, leaving her to figure some bills, then stepped across the yard to say goodnight to Donnie and Alison who were cozied together on the porch of the guesthouse.

 

Delphine made her intentions toward Cosima’s body clear as the car slipped in and out of the shadows between street lamps; she ran her hand across Cosima’s shoulders and chest before dropping it to cover her breast. She squeezed, then leaned in and kissed Cosima’s neck. Finally, letting her hand settle softly on Cosima’s thigh, her head on her shoulder. As they drew closer to the Riverside, Cosima felt Delphine inhale deep and long, then heard the breathy release of a yawn.

 

“So we’ll sleep when we get back then.” she teased. Delphine grinned; she drew her fingers, which had trifled with the inseam of Cosima’s dungarees, to its apex and pressed against the warmth there.

 

“No.” Delphine answered, “not until I’ve had you.” Cosima’s body betrayed any reserve she might have pretended to employ in the face of Delphine’s word of wanting. Her hips pressed forward as her breath caught in her throat. Delphine moaned at the heat evident even through the layers of denim cotton.

 

Cosima had become accustomed to and delighted in the gentle affection the other woman showed her body after their lovemaking. More than once, in the first days of their relationship, she wondered if Delphine had fallen asleep using her leg or stomach as a pillow, but it was only ever she who drifted off as they lay together. Now, she knew the rhythm of Delphine’s breath and how it became deeper and longer as sleep took her. Tonight they both lay awake. Tonight, Delphine’s head rested inside her left hip; Delphine’s fingers and palm trailed paths over her stomach, hips and thighs; Cosima could feel the light feathering of breath across her lower abdomen.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Cosima wondered out loud, reaching down to take Delphine’s wandering hand in her own.

 

She felt Delphine smile before she answered, “Aldous Leekie.” she replied, mischievously, clutching Cosima’s hand tighter as she relished her own audacity.

 

Laughter bubbled up through Cosima’s spent torso; “I have to admit, that is quite possibly the last thing I expected to hear you say.” She wrapped her foot around and between Delphine’s legs and pressed them together. “He’s a little old for you, don’t you think?” Delphine turned her eyes up to meet Cosima’s.

 

“Perhaps, but I wasn’t thinking about him as a sexual partner.” she offered.

 

“Phew, I was worried for a minute.” Delphine took her hand back and playfully slapped the side of Cosima’s right buttock.

 

“You’re cheeky.” she remarked, “to say such things while I lay between your legs!”

 

“Hey, you brought him up; mine was not the first Cheeky Leekie comment.” Cosima tossed out light heartedly, and then after a moment, “but seriously, what were you thinking?” Delphine’s playfulness subsided with the seriousness of Cosima’s tone, she threaded their fingers back together and settled her head back onto Cosima’s stomach.

 

“I was thinking how impulsive it was of me to tell him you would be my witness, how presumptuous, and also how perfect and how devastating.” Her recollection and her anticipation collided into a melee of swirling sentiment.

 

“Yeah,” Cosima conceded, “it does feel a bit like I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face, to be the one who swears you’ve been here long enough to be able to leave.”

 

“It must, chérie.” she squeezed Cosima’s hand. “and I dislike it so much, but also, there is no one I want there more than you.”

 

“Yeah.” Cosima agreed. “I know what you mean.”

 

Delphine thought about the moments ahead of them, the separation, the uncertainty about Cosima’s academic program and course of study. She thought about the day she arrived in Reno, on the train platform, feeling lost and foolish and too proud to accept help, and she thought about how much a part of something she finally felt, and how anxious she was to know the end of her own story. It was tempting to want to want to linger here as well, in Reno. To simply stay, and yet she knew if nothing else after life with Phillip that her work was important to her and doubtless, once they settled into the patterns of what ever came next, it would feel so again. Berkeley was close enough by train. She could make a few trips back before Cosima left for fall semester. She’d thought it all out, how to make the next six weeks less painful for Cosima, to ensure the woman knew that she was wanted, that she didn’t need to make rash decisions or force choices. She turned her face into Cosima’s body and kissed the juncture of her hip.

 

“You know,” Cosima offered, “I could always tell the truth and force you to stay with me for six more weeks.” Delphine’s brow wrinkled in confusion for a moment until…

 

“Mon dieu!!!” Delphine cried. “Eagle Falls!”

 

She had completely forgotten that she had technically violated the law that would make her divorce possible. Delphine stirred from her place, no longer quite comfortable with not being able to look Cosima in the eye.

 

“What will you do, chérie, with all this power?”


	39. They Can’t Take That Away From Me

“What will you do, chérie, with all this power?” Delphine had asked as she brought the length of her body up to align with Cosima’s.

 

The smaller woman smiled whimsically, reached into her lover’s hair and pulled their lips together in a gentle yet probing kiss, the sincerity of which melted Delphine’s sinews, causing her to sink into their embrace. Cosima rolled Delphine over and continued to kiss her, lacing their fingers together and bringing their hands up next to her tousled blonde curls. She bathed Delphine’s neck and shoulders with loving attention nipping gently at her flesh and brushing it lightly with the barest tip of her tongue. She settled herself in the crook of Delphine’s right arm, and spoke.

 

            “Well, as much as I want you around, I rather like the idea of being a perjurer.”

 

            “Oui?” Delphine ran a lazy finger up the side the of the arm Cosima had draped across her shoulder. “Por quoi?”

 

            “Well,” she stated with affected confidence, “it might add to my sex appeal; I mean, no one likes a goody two shoes.” Cosima pulled the sheet up over their hips to keep the chill of the summer breeze at bay.

 

“True.” Delphine agreed, judiciously. She kissed Cosima’s hairline and relaxed. “Though I am not sure anyone would accuse you of that.”

 

“But then again…” Cosima said coyly, running her fingers over Delphine’s collarbone and down the center of her chest, “I already have the corruption of a classy society lady on my conscience; what’s one more mark against me?” She moved her hand, covering the swelling flesh of Delphine’s left breast and squeezed.

 

 _Mmmmm._ Delphine moaned and lifted her torso to mirror the pressure of Cosima’s touch. Cosima rolled her tightening nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation pulled Delphine deeper into her passion; she reached up and stilled Cosima’s hand. “What do you want to do?” she asked, quite seriously.

 

“I want to make love to you.” Cosima answered soberly, and moved to kiss her again, but Delphine turned her head into the pillow. Cosima balked at the avoidance. “Are you ok?” she asked, trying to move her own gaze into Delphine’s eye line.

 

“I meant what do you want to do at the trial?” she barely managed to look Cosima in the eye as she asked and then turned her head away again, ashamed already for having asked.

 

“Delphine.” Cosima used the gentle pressure of her fingers to turn Delphine’s eyes toward her. “Hey, I don’t have any interest in stopping you from doing exactly what you want to do.”

 

“I know,” Delphine said, “but I also know you don’t want to say goodbye.” She held Cosima’s gaze, reaching a finger up to touch her lips, “I don’t either.”

 

“No, I don’t.” Cosima agreed, “but I do know the only power I am interested in using to keep you is right here,” she ran her fingertips down Delphine’s neck across her ribs and down to her hips. “And here.” She captured Delphine’s mouth with her own a kissed her deeply. “And here.” She pressed her lips over the spot where Delphine’s heart beat wildly in her chest. “This, whatever is between us, is the most powerful thing I have ever felt and no judge, decree, or distance can make it more or less than exactly what it is. I love you Delphine, and that’s the only real power I’ll ever have, and I won’t ever use it to try to hurt you or control you.”

 

Delphine half smiling, half crying reached up and pulled Cosima’s mouth to hers. “Then use it, chèrie,” She slid their mouths together and pulled Cosima’s kiss as deeply into her as she could. “to remind me of all the reasons I should stay. Make love to me, Cosima.” She grabbed Cosima’s hand and moved it down between her legs, which she parted to reveal the magnitude of her arousal.

 

“Dear god. Delphine,” Cosima’s fingers were enveloped in warm liquid heat. She touched slowly at first, stroking her fingers up and down the length of Delphine’s sex, before allowing them to tease the edges of her entrance. She pressed gently, then slipped her fingers just inside, feeling the swollen, open flesh. She let her tongue echo the pattern against Delphine’s mouth.

 

Intent on savoring the gift of her lover’s desire, she closed her eyes and let herself feel the ache gathering in her own body, the swelling and the wetness inspired by Delphine’s, whose hips began to rock in time with the rhythm of Cosima’s fingers and mouth, each movement beckoning Cosima’s touch to become firmer and deeper. She wrapped one arm tight around Cosima’s shoulders, then let her other hand descend to the warm round flesh of her ass, urging her lover’s hips to mirror the movement of her own. “More.” She insisted; Cosima obliged.

 

“Cosima.” She whispered breathlessly through their kisses, as their bodies rolled against one another. “Yes, Cosima.” As she opened herself further, allowing her body to take whatever Cosima wanted to give her. “Yes.” She felt herself fuller than she ever had been and strained still for more, practically shouting this time as she called, “Cosima!”  Undone by the insatiability of the woman beneath her, Cosima pushed herself up onto one arm, reluctantly breaking their kiss. She pressed a thigh against the back of her hand. She had filled Delphine with her fingers and now used her thumb to continue to draw pleasure from the swollen bud of flesh at the apex of her sex. She stared into Delphine’s face; her eyes were closed in exquisite agony. She bit her bottom lip and pressed her head back into the pillow with each roll of her hips. Cosima lowered her torso to whisper into her ear.

 

“My God, Delphine, you are so beautiful. So so beautiful.” She continued to move inside and against her until Delphine’s breaths became moans and her words a string of emphatic affirmations. She felt Delphine’s body open wider and then begin to constrict, to press down and in against her hand. She moved as nimbly as she could despite the change, desperate not to lose the tempo of Delphine’s body and leave her frustrated. She curled her fingers and pressed with her thumb.

 

“Oiu. Cosima, yes! Mon Dieu… Tu es ma femme. Je t’adore… ma femme, ma femme. Oiu, oiu oiu.” Her body went rigid as her climax broke. The pulsing of Delphine’s orgasm, caused her own core to wind itself tight as a clock spring, each contraction edging Cosima closer to her own ending.

 

“Delphine, my god, yes. Yes. Yes.” By the time Delphine’s pleasure subsided Cosima was a pool of her own want, but she felt no drive to seek release; she simply let her arousal be, enjoying the very real pleasure of honest love making, something she was acutely aware that she might never have experienced had it not been for the remarkable woman beside her. When she withdrew herself from Delphine’s sated body, the blonde laughed at her own exhaustion and spent passion. She turned over and curled herself into Cosima, kissing the woman where ever her lips landed: arms, chest, shoulder, neck. She tucked herself into Cosima’s warmth and purred.

 

“My God, what did you to me?” she kissed Cosima’s chest again and then sighed.

 

“I assume that isn’t a literal question.” Cosima mused, wrapping Delphine in her arms.

 

“Non.” Delphine affirmed, “unless you particularly want to share.” Cosima laughed out loud.

 

“No,” she pulled the blankets up over them. “I’m not sure I did anything anyway, except follow directions.”

 

“Oh no, you did.” Delphine complimented her. “trust me; you did.”

 

“Well, I’m glad to know you weren’t faking it!” Cosima grinned at her own cheekiness, and paid for it with a rather firm pinch to her backside. “Hey!” she shouted, “What was that for?”

 

“Because you deserved it!” Delphine shot back.

 

“Boy, a great orgasm doesn’t buy what is used to; I’ll tell you that.” Cosima wrapped her arms tighter around Delphine and kissed the top of her head. “I was expecting to get away with a few good jokes before you got offended.”

 

“Oh. I’m not offended at all.” Delphine replied all deference and nonchalance.

 

“You could have fooled me.”

 

“Cosima,” Delphine smiled up at her.

 

“Yeah,” she replied looking down into her eyes.

 

“I was faking it.”


	40. Yippie Ki Yi Yay

Their appointment the next morning with Aldous Leekie went smoothly; Cosima’s familiarity with the protocol and the proceeding disarmed Delphine at first, until she remembered that her beloved was an old hand at divorce colony life. The two women sat across from the counselor at his cherry desk in fine wood chairs; they both had their hands folded in front of them, relaxed, respectful. Leekie lead each of them through the specific questions they could expect as well as the standard responses.

 

“Now Cosima, you’ll be called as a witness and asked to take the stand; you’ll state your name and swear an oath to tell the truth.”

 

“So help me God.” She raised her right hand as she offered the expected rejoinder, nudging Delphine with her knee in the adjacent chair as she did so, then pulling her frame taller, her back away from the back of the chair. Delphine smiled placidly, betraying no hint of acknowledgment lest her lawyer find their teasing indecorous.

 

Leekie chuckled and shook his head. “Ms. Niehaus, how you are acquainted with Mrs. Bowles.” It was jarring to hear Delphine’s married name, since she had insisted on Cormier during her stay in Nevada.

 

“We met on the train from Boston to Reno six weeks ago.” Cosima’s erect posture and focus leant weight to the mock proceeding and Delphine found herself growing nervous for reasons she could not ascertain. She kept her smile in place as her mind began to whirl.

 

“And to your knowledge has Mrs. Bowles maintained a residence in Nevada for the duration of your acquaintance.” Delphine’s heart beat too rapidly in her chest.

 

“Yes she has.”

 

“And to your knowledge has Mrs. Bowles left the state of Nevada for any amount of time, for any reason, during these past six weeks?” Delphine breathed deeply and tried to dispel the anxious tension in her abdomen.

 

“No, she has not.” Cosima affirmed, finally sparing a sideways glance at Delphine, who felt indicted by the relief that spread through her body.

 

“Thank you Ms. Niehaus, you may step down.” Cosima relaxed back into her chair.

 

“You turn.” She glanced at Delphine and winked.

 

Leekie turned his attention to his client. He asked her questions, many more than had been asked of Cosima, and she answered in turn; questions about her intention to divorce, her reasons for it, and her wish that it be granted today. He asked then about her residence of the last six weeks, her continuous presence in the state of Nevada, and her plans to remain

 

“And how long do you intend to make Nevada your home?” Though she, like Cosima, had kept her focus on Mr. Leekie through out their exchange, she couldn’t help the sidelong gaze she cast at Cosima on whose countenance she detected an eerily familiar affect; pleasant, but with a smile too stiff and eyes somehow farther away than Delphine would have liked. She imagined Cosima saw the same look on her face mere moments ago.

 

“Delphine?” he prodded.

 

“Pardon?” she replied, turning her regard back across the desk.

 

“How long do intend to make Nevada your home?”

 

“Did I not answer?” she asked.

 

“No,” he studied her carefully, “you did not.” She reached her hand toward Cosima, letting it come to rest on her knee. She squeezed.

 

“Indefinitely.” She stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Thank you Mrs. Bowles; you may step down.”

 

“And that’s it?” she retrieved her hand from Cosima’s leg.

 

“That’s it.” He replied. “So unless you have any other questions; I will see you both on Thursday.” They each shook his hand and left wordlessly through his heavy and ornate office door. As they walked out of the building, Cosima nudged Delphine with her hip.

 

“You ok?” she asked.

 

“Of course.” Delphine answered, certain that exploring her anxiety or Cosima’s was simply a terrible idea.

 

“You kind of stumbled at the end there.” she observed.

 

“I couldn’t remember the word in English. I thought I had answered in French.” Delphine lied.

 

“Ha! Too excited by your approaching freedom to keep your lingusitic bearings?”

 

Delphine laughed and shook her head, “Oui, I suppose.”

 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to hire you a tutor, and fast.” she joked. Delphine smiled. “or we could save the money and I’ll do the honors. Now, Delphine, repeat after me: Indefinitely.” She articulated each syllable clearly.

 

Delphine reached out and slapped Cosima on the shoulder.

 

“Impudent!” she exclaimed. Cosima grinned.

 

“That’s close,” unrelenting, she continued, “but it’s a little different. Impudent means sassy, now… listen to me: In-def-in-ite-ly.” Delphine shot Cosima a look of bemused indulgence.

 

“Indefinitely.” she repeated drolly.

 

“See, you did it!” Cosima wrapped an arm around Delphine’s shoulders, giving her a playfully condescending shake, “I knew it was in there somewhere! Now, say it three times fast.”

 

“Cosima, how long do you plan to keep this up?”

 

“Indefintely.” she winked, and Delphine shoved her off the sidewalk into the street.

 

It was commonly understood that indefinitely in most cases of Nevada divorce meant mere days, if not hours. In Delphine’s case it would be just twenty-four. Her departing ticket was for Friday, exactly six weeks and one day since the moment of her arrival. Cosima persisted in her teasing the over the weekend; besides surprise quizzes on the English translation of _indéfiniment_ , she tossed in little comments at the end of conversations reminding Delphine of her impending perjure.

 

After an exchange about her choices between dormitory life or procuring an off campus apartment Cosima affirmed, “That sounds like a solid plan. You could have something all settled by the end of next week… _you know, if I let you leave_ ,” followed by an affectionate wink.

 

But when the conversation turned serious, as it did more than once in the subsequent days, Cosima betrayed no intention at all of hindering Delphine. She spoke of love, and missing her, and excitement at seeing what she might achieve. They cried (more than once) and laughed at themselves for crying. Cosima even refused to make firm plans about Delphine’s weekend trips, simply saying that they would see what happened and that Delphine needed to attend to the details of life in Berkeley.

 

They passed those peaceful and bittersweet days in the rhythm of ranch life, not retreating to the Riverside in the evenings, as Delphine found she would not only miss Cosima, but also the hotchpotch family into which she had been welcomed so earnestly and eagerly. She smiled waking to the smell of breakfast and coffee and let wane the guilt she felt at the lingering moments she spent talking with Siobhan over coffee, even as the others set about their daily chores. The intuitive older woman was no stranger to the settling melancholy that imbued Delphine’s gazes each morning as she surveyed the ranch from their usual perch on the guesthouse porch.

 

“What will you miss the most?” she asked as they finished their Monday morning coffee.

 

“Pardon?” Delphine asked unaware that her countenance betrayed any emotion other than deep satisfaction at her present circumstance.

 

“You’ve got the leaving look.” she clarified. “The one that tries to soak it all in.”

 

Delphine reflected on her own thoughts and realized Siobhan was right. She had been harvesting memories, admiring the way dust kicked up from Paul’s boots as he crossed the yard; breathing deep the now familiar mélange of smell that was the Double S: dust, sage, hay, coffee, and the slight tang of manure that perpetually permeated the air; absorbing the far away sounds of cattle lowing; the whine of long-arcing metal gates on their hinges; and feeling, with a profound and startlingly early sense of nostalgia, the truth that in a scant three days they would all be carrying on with out her.

 

“All of it.” she admitted deferentially. “This really is a completely different world than any I have ever known, and I could never have imagined feeling so at home in it, and yet I do, and have, and I will miss all of you terribly. All of this.”

 

“It’s a plainer life I suppose than what you’re accustomed to.”

 

“Not at all, Siobhan.” the younger woman hurried to correct her. “On the contrary, laboratories and libraries and endless stacks of paper, to me, seem dreadfully ordinary compared to this. A ranch is so very intricate, well regulated as any experiment, but with a pulse and rhythm that makes it magnificently alive.” Siobhan couldn’t help but smile at enthusiastic candor of Delphine’s comparison.

 

“You really are something else, kitten. It has been our privilege, for lots of reasons.” Delphine’s melted at the affectionate epithet Mrs. S usually reserved for her daughter. “And I hope you won’t be a stranger, and that you know you have more here than Cosima to come back to. We love visitors, even if they aren’t paying guests.”

 

“Of course,” the tightness in her throat held back her next words for a few moments, “I would love to come back, and not just for Cosima.”

 

“Well, I guess we better pitch in, or all of this well regulated experiment will fall to shambles.” She stood, her cup in hand and moved around the front of the porch.

 

“Yes, we better.” Delphine agreed but didn’t stir; an idea took root in her mind, and as she quickly worked through them, the details of her thought held her to her chair.

 

“I’ll take your cup in and meet you in the barn.” She had just stepped off the porch when Delphine spoke.

 

“Siobhan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think I’d like your help with something.”

 

“Of course, love.”

 

“Perhaps you should sit back down.”

 

“If you like.”

 

            They spoke for another half an hour, Siobhan eager to assist Delphine in anyway that she could, and more so once she heard Delphine’s plan.

 

“Are you two ever gonna stop jawing like a couple of old ladies or are we gonna have to finish your chores?!” Paul winked as he approached. “Can I get you another round of coffee? I think there’s enough left in the pot.”

 

“Thank you, Paul,” S answered, “but we were just finishing up. Though I would like you to go find your brother. I’ll need a little help from you both. Delphine is going to take some of her things back to the Riverside; Cosima is going to help her pack, so we will be a skeleton crew today.”

 

Paul smiled his mischievous smile. “Packing….. right…” a playful skepticism imbued his words. “Sounds like an excuse to kick off from chores and do some of that _fancy nappin’_ you two are so fond of.” He winked at Delphine, who took a moment to catch his meaning. When she did she blushed, but rallied her wit before responding. She looked him dead in the eye and replied.

 

“Only the fanciest, and you know the walls here are so paper thin, it’s hard to get in a proper _nap_ during the day.” She bested him at his own game once again, and it was his turn to blush.

 

“Well, ride ‘em, cowgirl!” he said appreciatively and turned to go find his brother.

 

“I’m going to miss the way you put him in his place.” Siobhan said admiringly.

 

“And I’ll miss doing it.” Delphine agreed.

 

“Now get out of here; I’ll make sure the boys are caught up and ready to go on Thursday.”

 

“Merci.” Delphine rose and took her leave.

           

            Though it hadn’t been part of her formal plan, Paul’s provocative banter had lead Delphine to thinking. She set her small bag, with a change of clothes and her more formal court apparel, by the hotel room door and left Cosima to finish up and arrange the train ready bags in the bedroom. She grabbed her Stetson and closed herself in the bathroom. Cosima yelled from the other room.

 

            “It’s too bad we can’t just move your things to the ranch house, it would be a lot easier than this charade.” Aware that she sounded almost put out, she added, “not that object to any time I get alone with you.” Delphine grinned to herself as she responded.

 

“Yes, but this _little charade_ is the only thing keeping me on schedule for Berkeley; if anyone saw us they could delay me another six weeks.”

 

“And lord knows we wouldn’t want that.” Cosima said playfully.

 

“No.” Delphine agreed, opening the bathroom door her grin having melted into a self-satisfied smirk. “We wouldn’t want that.” She emerged completely naked except for the white hat perched atop her blonde curls. She crossed to the bedroom door and leaned her long torso into the frame. She waited. Cosima zipped the final bag closed and hefted it up, turning to place it with the others to the left of the bed.

 

            When she caught sight of Delphine, she did a double take. The bag tumbled from her hands and her mouth fell open. She was frozen in her tracks, dumbstruck. Delphine, pleased her overture had had its intended effect, colored with a rush of heat. Cosima, whose body also flushed with desire, regained her senses in the process. She sauntered over to scantily clad woman and purred.

 

            “Well hello, cowgirl.”

 

“I think I remember you liked this hat.” She grabbed Cosima by the lapels and pulled her close.

 

“You know I did.” Cosima responded, trying to press back a little to take in the fuller picture. Delphine brought her lips to the corners of Cosima’s mouth and kissed each side, sliding the tip of her tongue over parted lips.

 

“And do you still like it?” she asked seductively, nudging Cosima a few steps back toward the bed.

 

“Yes ma’am, I surely do.” Cosima winked as she spoke. Delphine had begun unbuttoning her shirt, and when it was completely open at the front, she unfastened her belt and jeans as well.

 

“Take your boots off.” She demanded gently, stepping back. Cosima sat and did as she was asked, then she reached for Delphine’s hips; she pulled the other woman close to the bed, kissing her ribs and her stomach, dipping her head to kiss each hip bone and the expanse of flesh between them. She moaned at the sweet taste of her lover’s skin.

 

Delphine moved onto the bed pressing Cosima back as she straddled her at her full height; she leaned down planting an trail of kisses up Cosima’s mid line, gentle, sweet kisses, teasing with the lightest brushes of lips, tongue and breath. As she moved higher, the brim of her hat caught on the underside of Cosima’s breast and was jostled from it’s place. Delphine looked up chuckling at the interference of her sexy prop; she reached to discard it, but Cosima stopped her.

 

“Leave it on.” she requested. Delphine squared it back onto her head then Cosima used one fingertip to push it up higher on her forehead. “That should help.” And it did. Delphine was able to pay the most tender of attention to Cosima’s breast and neck and kiss her lazily. She put her hands over Cosima’s ribs and pushed herself up letting her hips settled over the smaller woman’s and letting them fall down into her.

 

Against the exposed flesh where Delphine had opened her pants Cosima could feel Delphine’s wanting. She reached down between their bodies and used two fingers to feather light circles over her swollen center. Delphine sat up even taller letting her hands move behind her to rest on Cosima’s thighs, offering more of herself to the eager fingers stirring incredible sensations in her most sensitive places. She wanted to feel Cosima as well and moved one hand into Cosima’s open pant front.

 

She was surprised how easy it was to find evidence of Cosima’s arousal and moved her hips even farther forward wishing for Cosima to find her way inward, to all of the places that gave her pleasure. And she did. Delphine then wanted to feel Cosima in the same way, but the denim fabric made maneuvering her own hand too difficult. She thought for a moment; she didn’t want to stop Cosima’s attentions but very much wanted to remove the obstacle to her own romantic imagining. She sat up forward again and stilled Cosima exploring hand, but kept it close to her body. She then threw her right leg to the left side of the bed while raising her hips and bringing her left leg under and to the right. Much to Cosima’s disbelief, she had completely reversed her position. Delphine’s hips then lowered back onto Cosima’s torso as she let go of her hand, making sure to apply gentle pressure so Cosima knew her touch was still wanted.

 

She was at liberty now to use her arms at a fuller strength to coax Cosima’s hips up and easily move the fabric down and off of her legs. She felt Cosima’s ministrations resume and let herself reach down between Cosima’s legs and enter her. The sensation of simultaneous touch was euphoric in a wholly incredible way. Cosima hooked her free hand around Delphine’s hip bone and used it to pull herself up to kiss Delphine’s back without having to pause in her other attentions. They moved and moaned together until they reached their endings, each finally collapsing, Cosima back onto the bed Delphine forward across the length of Cosima’s legs. After a few moments of glorious recovery, Delphine stretched her legs and brought them both to one side of her lover’s body. She propped her head up on her hand, hat still in place and stared adoring up at Cosima, clad now only in her unbuttoned plaid shirt. She placed a gentle kiss on her ankle and then asked, “How are you?”

 

Cosima laughed out loud.

 

“How am I? I’m incredible. What you did… hell I don’t even know what to call what you did….” As she groped for words Delphine interjected.

 

“I understand from your brother it’s called fancy napping.”

 

“Oh, it was fancy alright.” Cosima agreed, sitting up and moving her body to lay face to face with her the stunning woman she had just made love with. Delphine brushed Cosima’s hair behind her ear. “The fanciest I’ve ever seen.”

 

“And it was alright?” Delphine asked shyly, aware in her post coital posture of exactly how brazen she had been in her desires.

 

“Alright?” Cosima asked disbelieving, “There’s only one thing to say about it Delphine,” she moved up onto her own elbow, drawing their lips closer together.

 

“And what is that, my love.”

 

“Ride ‘em, cowgirl!”


End file.
